


I Will Always Find You

by Tiger_Lilly13



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dry Humping, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forced Marriage, Male Solo, Masturbation, Red Lyrium Cullen, Slow Build, Soulmate AU, Sparring, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, tags will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiger_Lilly13/pseuds/Tiger_Lilly13
Summary: It is Ellana Lavellan's Bonding day and she is none too happy about it. When the call comes for her to leave her clan to spy on the humans before the ceremony can take place, she is relieved. But she never would have guessed that in leaving her clan, she would never be coming back, as the man that has haunted her dreams is thrown into her path.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the story of my Female Lavellan and Cullen Rutherford. It will focus more on their relationship, it will not all be canon and I'm just writing as I go. This is how I wanted the relationship to develop. It will have Romeo and Juliet moments, and damsel in distress moments because I'm such a sucker for them. First chapter is learning who Ellana is and what she is leaving behind. Will update every Friday!!

_Ellana looks down at herself, the normal bonding garb flowing around her small, lithe frame, red ribbons wrapping around her arms and a crown of prophets laurel on her dark auburn hair. She looks up, seeing the familiar faces of her clan, all with smiles and joyful tears, standing along the pathway lined with wooden chimes that are tinkling in the wind, leading to the beautiful stone arch with twirling vines entwined with spindleweed, elfroot, and embrium._

_She should feel happy, ecstatic, and ready to begin her future with the man she was destined to be with, but instead, all she feels is dread, foreboding, remorse, walking towards her unwanted fate. It’s not Lionel’s fault that he loves her and she doesn’t feel the same for him. She cares for him greatly, yes, but there was never any returning love, and for that she feels ashamed, as if there is something wrong with her for not loving him back._

_So, regrettably, she moves, as she should. Her feet feeling heavy as she forces herself forward as she smiles, not letting any of them know that she is screaming on the inside. Everything begins to get quiet, and her slow deep breaths become louder and louder in her own ears as she approaches the arch._

_A bright light is shining through the arch way, and she sees a lone figure standing there, knowing that Lionel is waiting for her._

_But as Ellana moves closer, her brows furrow in confusion, tilting her head at the unfamiliar form that awaits her. It’s all wrong. The figure is too broad shouldered, too tall, hair too short, but it is defiantly male._

_The light beyond the archway grows brighter and she squints against the white beam, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes._

_The only things she can make out are his eyes and they are closed. She cannot make out his face, too dark from the light shining behind him._

_Her voice is distorted, sounding distant in her ears as she whispers, “What…?” She tries to move closer, feeling drawn to this man, as if the gods themselves were pushing her towards him. She has a feeling of awe in her chest, as if the air has been sucked out of her lungs and her only sustenance is the mysterious man waiting for it at the end of the path._

_Suddenly, his eyes snap open and she stops in her tracks. Golden eyes, the color of the lowering sun at dusk, flickering and boring into her soul, a mane of red surrounding his head and shoulders like flames._

_The growl of a lion is heard as the amber color flares brightly and she squeezes her eyes tight against the blinding light..._

Ellana gasps awake, lifting up onto her forearms, breathing heavily as her eyes dart around the room. The light of the morning sun is filtering through her aravel through the window, casting shadows that dance on the wooden floors. She looks around her little home confusingly, trying to calm her breaths. That man, was not Lionel. She has never seen a man like that before. She wonders why she didn’t feel frightened of him but instead she felt, safe and protected. And those eyes. It felt as if she was staring into the eyes of her other half, the man who she is supposed to bond with for all eternity. He looked…human? But that can’t be right. _Just a strange dream, Ellana. Nothing more._

A few wraps of knuckles on the door jolt her out of her thoughts and she shakes her head to rid of the puzzling dream. She doesn’t get the chance to even get out of bed when the door swings open.

“Ellana!” the figure shouts a little too loudly in a familiar feminine voice, “It’s time to get up, lethallen!”

Ellana groans and throws the blankets over her head laying back down, hiding like a stubborn child from the intruder. They are not put off by this act of disobedience and Ellana feels the bed dip with the invader’s weight.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Don’t you remember what day it is?” Her chipper friend says enthusiastically, all while trying to uncover the lump under the sheets.

Ellana groans again in a huff and grips the blankets covering her from reality harder. Of course she remembers. How could she forget that her entire future that has been laid out for her solidifies today and traps her forever with a man she doesn’t love? _Oh yes, best day of my life._

Relinquishing her hold on the blankets, she lets them fall when her friend tugs it down, revealing Serena’s happy face. Ellana makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at her.

The other elf’s brow rise in concern, “Ellana? Are you alright?”

She sits up and rubs the sleep away from her eyes, “I’m fine, Serena, just…weird dream.” _I’ll say,_ she thinks.

The blonde elf’s expression turns jovial again, “Oh, it’s just jitters. I was the same way the day of my bonding. It gets better once you see the man of your dreams at the end of the path, knowing that you will soon be together forever.” Serena says dreamily, sighing and looking off into the distance as memory takes her.

Ellana just stares at her friend for a moment with an unimpressed look and one brow arched, “…right.” 

Ignoring her comment, Serena continues, “It’ll be so beautiful, Ellana. You’ll bond with him, then we will have a celebration, and then you two will sneak off to do your duty to the clan and work on the next generation.” she gives her a seductive wink.

Ellana’s cheeks flush with embarrassment and shame and covers her face with her hands, but Serena takes that as nervous excitement so she continues to mortify the poor elf, “So, have you thought about what it’ll be like with him? If you have any questions, you can ask me.” She offers matter-of-factly.

Humoring her friend for just a moment, hoping that she will scurry off somewhere if she indulges her a little, Ellana asks the first thing she can think of, “Well…does it hurt?” she genuinely asks.

The blond elf’s head tilts sympathetically, “It can, at first, but knowing how sweet Lionel is with you, it’ll be as amazing as you can image. Trust me, it will feel wonderful.”

“What if I image it being horrible?” she snarks back.

Serena exhales sharply with irritation when she catches _the tone_ , as she likes to call it, and her features soften when she looks back at her friend, laying her hand on the younger elf’s shoulder, “Is something wrong?”

Ellana nibbles her lower lip anxiously while fiddling with the edge of the blanket in her lap. She sighs, “Serena,” she pauses, trying to think of the words to voice her opinions without insulting her friend, “Did you love Evian when you bonded with him?”

Her friend seems taken aback by the question, “Of course I did! We were matched when we were young, just like you and Lionel. It was the happiest day of my life.” She pauses, gaging her friend scrutinly, “Why?”

“I just,” she takes a breath and looks out the window, “Haven’t you ever thought there was something more out there? I mean all Keeper talks about is ‘continuing our ways’ and ‘responsibility to the clan’. I don’t know, it just all seems so…” she doesn’t finish, scoffing and waving her hand dismissively in the air.

Her friend huffs, “You were always too curious for your own good,” she mumbles to herself, “so are you saying you don’t love Lionel? I thought you two were best friends?”

“We are!” Ellana says quickly, “I care for him, I do, but…not like that.” Her voice gets quieter as she finishes.

Her friend hums and rubs the blanket on the bed, “Well,” she draws, “Maybe the love will come after? I’ve heard it happening before. And he loves you so much, you could learn to love him as time goes on.”

“And that’s fair to you?” Ellana snaps, looking at the other elf with skepticism, “Forcing someone into a bond and producing children with a man that they don’t love in the hopes that the love will ‘come after’?”

Serena’s features turn stern, “They are our ways, Ellana. We must understand the importance of continuing them. You and Lionel are a good match, and your children will be strong. You are a powerful mage and he is our best hunter. Would you really be so selfish as to deny the clan a better future?”

Ellana furrows her brow at her friend’s words, seeing the truth in them, but that voice will still not leave her, telling her that there is something better out there. And that dream…she felt something, something incredible. It’s as if she can feel the man in her dream calling to her, but that’s ridiculous, right?

Her friend is still staring at her expectantly and Ellana eventually exhales loudly and lowers her head in defeat, “No.”

“Good.” Serena pulls her head towards her, kisses her forehead then rises from the bed, “Now, it’s time to get up and get ready. Your father will be waiting for you outside.”

Ellana just nods her head, listening to her friend’s footsteps as she leaves the aravel, the door closing with a quiet click.

Ellana sighs and rises from the bed, walking towards her usual attire of her dark green leggings and the tan halter top. After throwing them on, she looks over and sees her dress and crown of white and blue flowers by the mirror. She goes towards it and picks it up, examining the newly made tiara. It was the same type of crown that was worn by her mother when she bonded, or so she was told by her father. He wanted her to have something that represented her when she was to bond. She shakes her head and sets it back down, knowing that if her mother were still alive, she would at least listen to Ellana’s worries.

Staring at her reflection in the looking glass, her eyes follow the delicate lines of her Vallaslin, the dark green marks starting at her cheekbones under her eyes and flow towards her temples, branching out into multiple vines, representing Mythal. Her dark auburn hair is down in gentle waves, covering her breasts, and her usual bright green eyes are filled with sorrow and trepidation.

It’s not as if she didn’t want to be bonded or have children one day, just not with Lionel. She knew she would be bonded to him eventually when she became of age. She was able to put it off as long as she could until Keeper Deshanna had finally had enough and scheduled it for today. There was nothing that was going to save her from it now.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she exhales slowly, steeling herself. She turns and opens the door of her aravel, the sun shining bright in her eyes. She can hear the usual chirping of birds and the soft murmurs of her clan waking up for the day. It is nosier than usual with everyone preparing for the celebration tonight. She steps out closing the door behind her and sees her father waiting for her a few feet away. He turns and beams at her, his arms raised to give his daughter a hug.

“Da’len good mor-” He stops mid-sentence when he gets a good look at her, eyes widening, “Ellana, why are you not dressed yet?” he asks accusingly, lowering his arms and planting his hands on his hips.

Ellana rolls her eyes and goes to her father, “The ceremony isn’t until dusk father. I’d rather be comfortable until I absolutely don‘t have to be.”

He huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose, saying with exasperation, “Dirthara-ma, Ellana.” Shaking his head, he gives her a quick hug then holds her by the shoulders, his features softening while looking over his only child’s face, “Your mother would be so proud of you.” He says with affection. 

“I miss her.” Ellana says quietly with grief.

He nods his head solemnly, “I know da’len. As do I.” He rubs her cheek for a minute then takes a deep breath. His voice is firm as he says, “Now, we must go over one more time how the ceremony is going to go.”

Ellana groans, “We’ve been over this so many times, I know what to do, father. And you know what, I don’t understand why we have to do the ceremony now. The Conclave is in a few weeks and Keeper wants me to go.”

He gives her the same stern look Serena did not a few minutes ago, “This has been put off far longer than we expected. This bond needs to happen, Ellana, under Mythal’s blessing. It will make it stronger.”

Ellana sighs and just nods her head in agreement, not voicing her honest opinion, as usual; knowing that if she tries to complain it will only end in an argument. An argument she is tired of having. So instead she asks, changing the subject, “Where’s Lionel?”

Her father raises a skeptical brow, “Why do you ask?”

“I want to talk to him before…you know.” _Oh great, I can’t even say the words._

He appraises his only daughter for a moment, probably wondering if this is an excuse to try and run away until he shrugs his shoulders and answers, “He went hunting this morning for the feast. He should be back soon.”

“I’ll just go look for him.” She hugs her father once more, and then makes her way towards the edge of the camp.

As she is walking to the thicker edge of the tree line, Ellana passes where Amethyst, her Hart, is grazing just outside the camp. She strolls up to the giant beast and gives him a pat on the neck, and he lifts his head while munching away on some grass. “Good, huh?” she asks while smiling, trying to avoid his giant antlers. He just snorts, bumps his head against her shoulder and continues with his meal. She giggles at him and gives him a few more loving pats before she leaves him to his business.

She travels through the south side of the forest, weaving through the trees and the brush, following the tracks of Lionel’s feet. She is no hunter, but being First to the Keeper, she needed to learn all the basics, at least. The sun was shining brightly through the branches and leaves of the trees, warming her cheeks. The birds were especially vocal this day, flittering about and talking to one another. She smiles and whistles to match their sweet tunes. They eagerly reply even louder and she giggles to herself, continuing to whistle to the feathery creatures.

She comes upon a clearing, wild flowers growing in the tall grass in whites and blues, a stream flowing nearby. It was peaceful, tranquil, and she stops in her pursuit to enjoy this moment of freedom, taking a deep breath, smelling the calming scent of crisp morning air and the sweet scent of the flowers. She spots a raven flying towards the direction of her camp and wonders briefly what it would be like just to turn into a bird and fly away from here.

“Ellana?” a male voice called.

She turns around and sees Lionel at the edge of the clearing, dragging his kill through the brush, “What are you doing out here?”

_Okay Ellana, time to buck up._

She puts on the most sincere fake smile she can and approaches her future bondmate. The blood of the dead wolf speckles his armor and he is grinning at her, ready to show her his prize. Her smile does turn genuine at his pride at bringing her his kill, clearly excited to see her. And she is excited to see him, but just not in the way he thinks she is. She mentally sighs.

Answering his lingering question, “I was looking for you, actually.”

“For me? You know we’re going to be seeing each other later.” He chuckles at her, taking her unexpected visit as a longing to see him. _Great, just make it worse Ellana._

She looks down at her feet as she kicks up some dirt, “I just uh, wanted to talk to you before we uh, you know.” _Still can’t say the words…coward._

Lionel comes to stand before her and lifts her chin delicately with his fingers, a warm smile on his face, his dark green eyes filled with love, “I’m just as excited as you are, Ellana. But there will be time to talk after the ceremony. Well,” a smirk dawns his lips, his eyes half lidded, “of course, after we consummate the bonding.” 

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment at his forwardness. At this point she would hope to feel something, maybe a spark or a wave of heat on her skin, maybe even a jolt in her loins, but she gets nothing. Lionel is an attractive man, his Vallaslin that represents Andruil gracing the features of his masculine, handsome face, but she just feels absolutely nothing. She feels guilty for it, but she just smiles and tries to reciprocate his seductive look, all the while feeling her face burn with the energy to do it convincingly.

He brings her chin close to his face, his other arm wrapping around her. She inwardly panics but closes her eyes and doesn’t fight him. His lips are about to brush hers when-

“Ellana!”

_Oh, thank the Creators._ She jumps back from him as if burned, smoothing down her clothes and looking towards the voice. Her brows furrow when she sees Keeper Deshanna running to them. “Ellana!” she calls again.

“Keeper? What-”

“Ir abelas, Ellana, Lionel, but I have urgent news. A raven was sent, the Conclave has been moved up a week. I’m afraid you must leave immediately if you are to make it in time.”

Before Ellana can even acknowledge the fact that she has been saved from her fate by the shems, if only temporarily, Lionel immediately starts to protest, voice firm, “Keeper, she can’t go now, our bonding is today and it has been postponed long enough.”

Keeper begins to try and reprimand him, but Ellana takes his hand and turns him to her, “It’s alright, I’ll go. As soon as I get back, we will do the ceremony. What’s another week, Lionel?” She gives him her most innocent face, knowing he cannot refuse her.

He sighs, closing his eyes, then reluctantly gives in to his future bondmate, “Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan , but we do it the minute you get back, alright?” He says determinedly.

Ellana mentally cringes at his choice of endearments, but she leans up to kiss him on the cheek hastily so he doesn’t try to go for her mouth, “Of course.”

They venture back to the camp where Ciaus has readied Amethyst for the journey to where the humans call The Temple of Sacred Ashes. Her Keeper goes over the details on what to watch for and who to pay attention to one last time, telling her there will be someone at the docks to bring her Hart back to the clan when she takes ship to Fereldan. Keeper gives her a hug before bidding her a safe journey and a swift return, her father doing the same.

Before she can hop on to her Hart, Lionel grabs her and pulls her into his chest, hugging her tightly, “Just, be careful.” He says worriedly, “These shems…you never know what they are capable of.”

She pulls away to look into his eyes, “Don’t worry, Lionel. They’re just shems, what could possibly happen?” she says mischievously. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He gives her a warm smile and does go in to kiss her this time. She manages to not let out a squeak of surprise when she feels his lips on her. It is chaste and sweet, but he doesn’t seem to notice that she didn’t exactly respond to it.

“Ar Lath, Ellana. Dareth shiral.” She lifts her hand to cup his cheek and smiles affectionately. There may be no reciprocation of love on her part, but he is still her best friend.

She swings onto Amethyst with help from Lionel and makes her way out of the camp, relieved to at least have been saved from her unwanted fate for just a little longer. _A few weeks,_ she thinks, _then I will truly be trapped._

In the back of her mind, the mysterious man with the amber eyes in her dream continues to plague her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter? Yes, yes it is. Also I try not to use the same dialogue that's in the game because well, I'm asuming we've all played the games, right?

_No. Not this again. Please, Maker, anything but this._

_The quiet hum of the shimmering barrier is not loud enough to drown out the screams from his friends as the abominations rip them apart. Cullen is on his knees, holding his hands over his ears with his eyes shut tight, trying to block out the agonizing cries that echo in the room. The air is heavy with the tang of blood and magic, suffocating him as if he is drowning. But it will get quiet soon, the fires will go out and he will wait until the inevitable happens._

_She will come for him. She always does._

_The screams die down and the flames on the torches extinguish, the only light coming from the barrier that cages him. He lifts his head to look out into the darkness so black it could be the Void itself._

_Then, he sees her, gliding towards him elegantly. He quickly closes his eyes and looks down, holding himself around the chest while rocking back and forth. He feels her stop right in front of him, the barrier keeping him relatively safe for now._

_“Cullen.” The voice says seductively, “Oh, Cullen.” He shakes his head rapidly, not looking up. “Oh, honey. What’s wrong?”_

_“Leave me, demon!” he shouts, though his voice is trembling._

_She tsks at him as if he is a stubborn child, “You poor thing. Why do you do this to yourself?”_

_“You’re not her. You’re not her.” he repeats this mantra over and over again, trying to convince himself more than the demon._

_She hums, “I can be anyone you want me to be, Cullen. Just let me in, and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever desired.”_

_He looks up, which is a mistake. The demon has taken Neria’s form and she is smiling at him wickedly. She has an evil glint in her black eyes and her mouth is pulled up into a satisfied smirk. He used to be so infatuated with this woman, but now she is used to torment him. He does not know how much longer he will be able to resist._

_She opens her mouth to speak more lies but then her eyes widen and her breath leaves her in a sharp exhale._

_An ice shard has burst through her chest creating a massive hole with dark, thick blood oozing out around the sides. She looks down at the serrated crystal sticking out her front with shock, her form changing from Neria to the busty desire demon. It takes a few pained gasps until the shard recedes from her body, the demon disintegrating into nothing._

_There is a figure behind her, a dark silhouette with bright green eyes. He cannot make out any other features besides the fact that the form is female and small. He wants to say she looks elven._

_Cullen stands and walks slowly to the barrier that is separating them as if he is in a trance. He is drawn to this woman for reasons he cannot understand._

_“Who are you?” he asks, his voice distorted even to his own ears._

_The figure’s eyes squint as if she is smiling and he swears he can hear her giggling as she raises her hands. He can hear the rolling sound of thunder as lightening and ice surround her arms in violet flashes. She flexes her arms out toward him, the lightening flaring brightly._

_He throws his hands in front of his face to block the blinding light, squeezing his eyes shut…_

Cullen wakes violently with a shout, his mind disoriented as he tries to get his rapid breathing under control. The crumpled sheets are damp with sweat and have been haphazardly thrown around. He surveys the inside of his tent, eyes raking over to his desk with piles of unsigned paperwork, his armor stand that holds his polished chest piece, then to the closed tent flap keeping the biting chill from entering.

He sighs and buries his head in his hands for a moment, then flops back down and throws his right elbow over his eyes.

That woman has made an appearance in his dreams for the past week. He doesn’t recognize her from anyone in Kinloch Hold, or even Kirkwall. He has no idea who she is or why she has suddenly appeared. Not that he is complaining though.

In every one of his nightmares, she saves him from the demon and her deceptions, but the figure will not speak. He wishes he could at least make out her face. The only thing he is able to see are her eyes, which if he is being honest with himself, are the most beautiful emerald eyes he has ever seen. He could spend hours just staring into them, captivated by their intense beauty.

_Get ahold of yourself, Rutherford._

His new duties as Commander must be taking their toll on him. He was Knight-Commander of Kirkwall for six months after the fall of Meredith and her sadistic ways until Seeker Cassandra came to recruit him. The Order was not the same as it used to be so he eagerly resigned and accepted his new role as Commander of the Inquisition. That also meant ceasing his lyrium dosages, which he was not too upset to have to do. It was just one more thing the Chantry could hold over him, and he refused to be a part of that life any longer.

It wasn’t bad at first, but over time, it has gotten worse, and now he can barely get any sleep because of the nightmares. And with this new development of this woman appearing in his dreams has worried him even more.

Cullen reasons with himself that it is just another symptom of his lyrium withdrawal and mentally shakes off his nightmare. He has no time to contemplate his sanity, he must get up and get ready for the Conclave to being.

\-----------------

“Shields up! Do not let them surround you!” Cullen shouts to his men.

The explosion shook the ground brutally and completely decimated the temple, killing everyone inside. Now the remains of the building is swarming with demons pouring out of the green tears in the sky. Cullen and some of his men that survived the blast are trying to fend off these creatures coming out of the rifts in endless waves.

He hears a pained shout and looks over to see Harkin battling with a tall, lanky demon. The creature screeches loudly and swipes its claws down across the soldier’s leg. The man cries and falls, gripping his leg as blood begins to flow from the wound. Cullen rushes to him, bashing his shield against the Terror, toppling it to the ground. He raises his sword and with a yell and embeds it into the creature’s neck, affectingly killing it. The demon disintegrates and the remains are swallowed back up into the rift.

Panting, he looks over at Harkin laying on the ground clutching his thigh, seeing a nasty gash in his leg. He is about to help the man up and get him to safety when he hears a crackling coming from the rift. Worried that yet another wave of monsters is about to coming pouring out, his eyes lift up to see a stream connecting to the rift and flowing downward. He follows the green line to try and determine its origin, but he cannot see through the dust that has not settled back to the earth. He can barely make out four figures on the other side of the field. The strange humming raises in volume until it shuts with a crash and the rift seems to close for good.

Momentarily thankful for the small pause, but knowing they are not out of the woods yet, he looks around and spots Cassandra running towards him. He looks over Harkin once more putting a hand on his shoulder for him to stay put, then rushes to meet her.

“Lady Cassandra,” he shouts, “I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to close the rift. Well done.” He inclines his head to her.

The Seeker, just as winded as he is, shakes her head, “This was not my doing, Commander.”

“Then who…?” He doesn’t get the chance to finish the question when he hears a squeak and a thump. He looks across the way and sees a young elven woman on her hands on knees, appearing to have stumbled over some rubble from the temple. The woman jumps up, dusting herself off while shouting enthusiastically, “I’m okay!”

Cullen tilts his head as the elf rubs her hands together, looking around wildly like a child in awe, as if she cannot concentrate on one thing. When her eyes land on him, she raises her hand and waves shyly, “Hi.”

There is a ghost of a smile on his lips at her cuteness before he shakes his head, turning back to Cassandra, “This is your prisoner?” he waves his hand in the direction of the elf, “The one who can close the rifts?” Cassandra just nods her head.

He turns to address the elven woman sternly, “I hope what they say about you is true, a lot of good men lost their lives bringing you here.” _Oh that’s nice Rutherford, blame this woman for the death of your men._

Her face turns disheartened and she visibly swallows, “Oh, so no pressure then, right?” Her head lowers and her right hand comes to her left arm rubbing it up and down.

Strangely, he feels guilty for souring her mood, but there is no time to dwell on it now. “Leliana is waiting for you in the remains of the temple, the way should be clear now.” He declares to Cassandra.

The Seeker lifts her sword, “Thank you, Commander. Come quickly!” she yells to her party.

He swivels and sees Harkin did not remain on the ground like he urged him to and is limping from his leg wound. He runs swiftly to the man lifting his arm on his shoulders and walks him back towards a more stable part of the structure.

“Wait!”

He halts and turns his head with his brows furrowed to see the prisoner running towards him. She reaches him and kneels on the ground in front of the injured soldier he is holding up. “Here, let me.” She insists.

Before he can ask what she is doing, her hands begin to glow and she rests them on the injured soldier’s leg. Ah, she is a mage. He should have realized it before with the staff attached to her back. Harkin hisses for a moment then sighs in relief when his wound closes. “There,” she says, the glowing on her hands fading. She turns to face Cullen and he is shocked at how beautiful she is, her green eyes stunning and the marks on her cheeks looking like wings made of vines, “Now I can at least say I’ve saved one of them.” She says solemnly with a sad smile.

He feels a warmth in his heart at her sincerity and he doesn’t hold back the small smirk. He is about to respond when she jumps up and snips, “Gotta go!”

He watches bewildered as she returns to the others, they of which have annoyed expressions at being delayed. He would reprimand her too for keeping them waiting, but she did just heal this man’s leg and potentially saved his life. He has an odd sort of affection for her already, not really knowing why. He only prays that she is able to help, for she is their only hope now.

_Maker watch over you, so that I may see you again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love! And also keeps me motivated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a longer chapter. Cullen probably comes off a little OOC but it will be explained why. I'm wanting to keep them between 3,000 and 6,000 words, but sometimes the characters have a mind of there own.

The first thing Ellana thinks as she regains consciousness is _Oh Mythal, my head._ She groans and raises her left hand to her forehead to alleviate the splitting headache with a simple healing spell when she notices the tingling inside her palm is not associated with her use of magic. Squinting her eyes open, she examines her hand in confusion, watching the shimmering green light flaring softly before dying down completely as if it wasn’t there. She stares at her seemingly normal hand for a moment, trying to wrack her brain for why her head hurts so much, and then her memory comes rushing back like a wave: The Conclave, the explosion, the ruined temple, the strange green light coming out of her palm.

She bolts up with wide eyes –which is a mistake because now she is nauseous - expecting to feel the snowy, hard earth beneath her, but all she feels is soft furs and a comfortable mattress. She looks down with furrowed brows, running her hands through the fuzzy, black pelts. Raising her head, she examines her surroundings. She is inside a small, cozy cabin, but she has no memory of how she got here. The last thing she remembers is closing the huge rift and being knocked backwards, hitting her head on some of the rocks that littered the temple grounds. She lifts her right hand to feel the back of her head and sure enough, there is a small lump hidden in her hair. She heaves a big sigh, dragging her hand down her face, then lays both hands in her lap to pick at her nails, content to just stay in this stranger’s bed for the moment and collect herself.

Ellana hears the front door begin to open, so she flops back down, closing her eyes and pulls up the furs to her neck, pretending to be asleep. The door creaks and light thumps of footfalls sound in the quietness of the room with the door clicking shut. She can hear the intruder shuffling about the room, and Ellana cracks an eye open subtly. An elven woman has brought in a bundle of what looks like an extra blanket. _Oh, another elf_ , Ellana reasons, _hopefully she can tell me where I am._

She straightens from the bed with a welcoming smile and a chipper, “Hello”, but she does it a little too quickly because she startles the poor girl, prompting her to squeak and drop her cargo roughly on the floor. Ellana throws off the covers and swings her legs over the side, preparing to get up and help her while sputtering, “Oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you!” 

She is frozen in place when the elf drops to her knees and proceeds to bow before her and Ellana’s brows shoot up in shock.

“Maker please forgive me, I am but your humble servant! Please grant me your blessings, oh Herald of Andraste!”

Ellana is flabbergasted with a dumbfounded look on her face at the outburst, “Uh…what?”

The elf continues to ramble loudly while staring at the floor that is mere inches from her face, “You saved us all, my lady! The mark on your hand!” Ellana looks down at it and it shimmers slightly, “It closed the rifts! A gift from Andraste herself! It’s all anyone has been talking about!”

Ellana holds up both hands, stopping the girl from the unwanted praise, “Wait, wait, just hold on. Can you please just, tell me where I am?”

The short-haired elf raises her head, “You’re in Haven, my lady.” She looks perplexed at her question.

 _Like that clears things up,_ “Haven? How did I get here?”

The elf actually blushes a little, averting looking into Ellana’s eyes, “The human commander carried you here, my lady.”

She tries to keep her voice steady as she responds, but she fails miserably and it comes out as a squeak, “Really?”

The other elf eyes her knowingly beneath her lashes, “Oh yes, he insisted. He hasn’t left your side for the past three days.”

She blushes at the elf’s words, lowering her head and tucking some lose hair behind her pointed ear. She remembers the human well. When they first locked eyes across the battlefield, she felt a pang in her chest, a pleasant warmth flood her body, heating her skin pleasurably. He was tall, handsome, commanding, everything she wasn’t used to in a man, so vastly different that she could not take her eyes off of him and she was surprised by how much he affected her. She was embarrassed that the first time they met she had tripped rather unceremoniously over some stone, but she hoped it added to her charm.

Ellana oddly had a strong need to impress this man so she did flinch when he scolded her about how a lot of people had died trying to bring her up the mountain. She didn’t want him to be cross with her, so she saved the young man he was carrying. There was a moment, after she healed the soldier’s leg, when she looked into his eyes. The warm, intense amber gaze he gave her did things to her, things she thought entirely inappropriate for where they were. She felt warm, safe, and a heated wave roll low inside her, in places she thought she would never feel come to life. Embarrassed at actually feeling aroused by just a look, she bolted from him before he could say anything or see the pink tint to her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

_Wait, did she say three days?_

Pulling her out of her thoughts, the girl starts rambling again while rising unsteadily from her kneeling, “Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve awakened. Right away, my lady! She’s in the Chantry,” She begins to back out of the room as if Ellana is a bear ready to attack, “Right away!”

Ellana tilts her head in confusion at her odd display until the elf has backed out of the room completely. _Well, that was weird._ She shakes her head and stands, locating her boots and slipping them on. She passes by the forgotten blanket on the floor and picks it up to lie neatly on her bed.

She walks to the front door, takes a deep breath, and opens it, the wood creaking and the cold mountain air stinging her warm cheeks. The sun shines brightly into her eyes and she has to bring her hand up to shield them for a moment to adjust to the light. Once her eyes are not so blinded, she gets a good look at her surroundings, but what she sees is a sight that confuses and terrifies her even more.

There are humans lining the path way out of the little cabin, all staring at her with mixed expressions. Some with awe and bewilderment, others with sheer disgust and disapproval. She avoids locking eyes with the latter lot. There are soldiers keeping the people back and away from her, thankfully, and she slowly steps forward, following the road not blocked off by menacing looking humans. Some of them start to shout, “It’s the Herald !” and Ellana looks around confused at who these people are yelling about, until she realizes it is her that they are referring to. _Herald? Herald of what?_

She attempts to smile and wave at them, hoping that maybe they are all just scared of her and that her kindness would help alleviate the tension, but no one smiles back. In fact, people begin to sneer at her, and she can faintly hear some of them calling her “Rabbit.” or, “Dirty-knife ear.” She tries not to let it affect her, but growing up in a clan of people who are friendly and welcoming, she did not develop a thick skin for this kind of treatment, so her smile drops and she keeps her head down and eyes lowered, making her way up the mountain. Some shems are bowing to her as she walks by, just like that elf girl did when she first woke up, whispering to each other about how Ellana had saved everyone from the holes in the sky. _What is going on?_

She spots the dwarf, Varric, lounging around by a fire pit and she does wave at him when she walks past. He gives her a sympathetic look and points to the large building at the top of the hill, directing her to what she assumes is the Chantry.

She hurries her steps to the giant building, following Varric’s nonverbal instructions. There are, what looks like priests, lining the outside of the building, all watching her approach, talking about a man named Roderick and his “uncooperativeness” . She does her best to not make eye contact and pushes open the gigantic double doors to enter the building.

She does not have time to marvel at the beauty of the Chantry because she can see –and hear –yelling and arguing inside the room at the end of the hall. She walks slowly toward the open door and listens in.

\---------------

_Well, that was interesting._

A few hours and a lot of intense arguing later, the door closes behind her as she exits the back room, the voices of the two women still bickering in her ear. She stops right outside and bends over with her hands on her knees, then rises, face up towards the ceiling with her hands on her hips. She sighs loudly. At least she is not going to be executed for killing the Divine, which she did not do. _I really hate that shem Roderick._

This trip has turned into a disaster. What’s worse is that her clan will most likely think she has been captured and come looking for her, but she can’t even begin to think of them right now. She has just agreed to stay and help this “inquisition”, even though she is still not entirely sure what the shem organization is, but with this green mark thingy embedded in her palm, she doesn’t have much of a choice.

They did give her a chance to leave, to go back to her clan and forget this all happened, but Ellana said no. This was her chance, to explore the world and help people. She would never admit it, but she is grateful for this opportunity. Not having to go back to her clan and live her life miserably with a man she doesn’t love is a blessing. It’s unfortunate that it took the beginning of the end of the world to save her, but she will take what she can get at the moment.

Ellana has been given access to the town, so she decides to explore her temporary home. She didn’t have time to examine the Chantry so she turns and walks backwards, admiring the large structure and the shem designs until her back hits something solid. She yelps and turns quickly, but gets disoriented and is about to fall until a pair of big, rough hands latch onto her hips to steady her. Her hands automatically land on the person’s forearms and she marvels at their strength.

Having regained her balance, she beings to apologize as she lifts her eyes and locks onto warm amber. Her tongue seems to stop working, feeling like lead in her mouth and she cannot seem to move her legs.

“I uh…” she clears her throat which is feeling quite dry at the moment, “Sorry. I’m so clumsy; I should’ve looked where I was going.” She smiles and laughs sheepishly. He is at least a head taller than her and she has to tilt her head up to even look at him in the eyes.

The blond human shakes his head while chuckling, “No no, it was no trouble.” Ellana swoons at the smile he gives her and she swears he can hear her heart beating erratically.

His hands start to flex and that’s when Ellana realizes _oh Creators, he is still holding onto me._ She imagines him sliding his hands up sensually until he cups her- _No no! Don’t go there!_

The Commander looks down to his hands, not comprehending that he is still holding tightly to her hips. He drops them quickly as if burned, sliding one hand up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. She feels colder without the pressure and already misses his hands on her. _Mythal, what is wrong with me?_

“So,” she draws, once she has recuperated from rather inappropriate response, “you are the Commander, yes?”

He beams at her proudly, and she thinks it’s adorable, “Yes, and call me Cullen. Please.”

She smiles bashfully at his forwardness, “It’s nice to finally meet you without the chaos surrounding us.”

“Without a doubt. I trust you are feeling better?” he tentatively inquires, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword.

Her face heats up with embarrassment, though her heart is swelling in her chest at his concern for her, “Sure, just a little bump on the head. Nothing too serious.” _Serious enough for you to be out three days, you idiot._

He inclines his head at her left hand with a raised brow, “And the mark?”

She looks down at her hand, swiveling her wrist, “Oh, I guess it’s alright. It doesn’t hurt if that is what you’re asking.”

His features soften and he nods, “Oh well, that’s…that’s good then.”

Neither of them speak for a moment, standing awkwardly in front of each other, not connecting eye sight. She begins to flush with how close he his; he is so much bigger than her, she feels like a mouse in front of a giant feline awaiting its next move.

He rubs the back of his neck again and she smirks at it - _he really has a nervous tick, doesn’t he?_ – and he finally looks down at her uncertainly, “Would you, care to talk a walk with me?”

She was not expecting that question and she doesn’t answer right away. He looks like he’s about to implode from nervousness so she shakes her head to rid of the fog and answers, “Oh, uh, of course! That sounds nice.” She inwardly cringes at her over eagerness.

He straightens with a grin and holds his arm out to lead her out the large double doors. _Such a gentleman_. Once they are open, a commotion in the front grabs their attention, his especially.

“There she is!” Ellana jumps at the loud voice, looking around in a panic as a mob of angry humans approach them on all sides, “That’s the bitch that murdered the Divine!” Her breath quickens and her eyes become saucers as they advance on the pair quickly, all shouting and yelling and she is frozen in her spot like a frightened halla. Every one of them is glaring at her, each face contorted in disgust and rage, ready to tear her in half and feed her mangled corpse to the dogs.

Cullen steps in front of her, his hands on the pommel of his sword threateningly, “Enough! You will go no further.” Ellana’s rapid breath is caught in her throat and she backs up behind Cullen, instinctively grabbing onto his coat as he intervenes on her behalf. 

Three humans move forward to the front of the mob in what she recognizes as Templar armor, the middle one seeming to be their leader of sorts. The sides of his head are shaved and he has the darkest eyes she has ever seen, like looking into the Void itself and a scar bisecting his right eye. The one on his left seems a bit timid, with piercing blue eyes and shaggy black hair, while the one on his right looks just as menacing as the leader. The shem with the Void eyes raises his head defiantly and address the Commander while pointing accusingly at her, “Commander, how can you defend this elf? You saw what she did. She should be executed!”

Firm in his conviction, Cullen responds, “There is no substantial evidence that this woman had any involvement in the Divine’s death. Unless you can provide it, then she is no longer a prisoner.”

“Ser, you can’t be serious!” he turns to Ellana and sneers, “Andraste would never choose a knife-ear to be her Herald. She is a pretender, only here to cause chaos!” The hordes of people shout in agreement, causing Ellana to flush and become as pale as a ghost. She grips onto him harder, her knuckles turning white, and he lets her practically burrow into his arm, her eyes intense on the infuriated crowd. Her gaze wanders toward the left where she spots Solas who is watching the exchange with great interest, his staff in his hands, ready to defend her.

Cullen retaliates against the Templar as he shouts, “Whether she is the Herald is irrelevant. She is the only one that can close the rifts, which she has agreed to continue to do and that is reason enough to pardon her for now.” She mentally sighs in relief as the people seem to accept that reasoning. At least she thinks they have because they do not shout any disagreements. 

Cullen addresses the entire crowd, his voice loud and firm, “Now, I don’t want to hear any more of it. Back to your duties, all of you.” With disgruntled murmurs, the mass begins to disperse slowly to various parts of town, except the three armored men still watching her with repulsion. The Commander takes a step forward and stares down the one in the middle, not wavering from his glare that could melt the snow that was falling around them , “Now, Mitchell.”

Ellana‘s eyes are wide and nervously darting between the two men in the standoff while half hidden behind Cullen, waiting for the Templars to hopefully retreat. Clearly these two have a history, and not a good one. The shem with the piercing blue eyes lays his hand on his leaders arm and shakes him, “Byron. Let’s go.”

The leader’s eyes narrow at Cullen, who is not impressed with his insubordination, and does not falter in his position. After an intense moment, the shem scoffs dismissively and motions to his followers to stand down.

Cullen huffs in frustration and turns to the frightened elf, softening his voice and laying his hand on the small of her back to urge her with him, “Come on.” She nods her head and follows him closely, looking back over her shoulder at the three men who are watching them keenly. The middle one, Mitchell, is especially, and his twin has a much more disturbing feel to his gaze that she does not want to interpret. The one with the blue eyes has a softer expression, almost an apologetic one. She quickly turns her head forward.

They walk silently through the town, Ellana feeling safer with him as they pass members of the previously angry mob. He gives a stern look to anyone brave enough to sneer at her, which she is grateful for.

After a moment he says irritably with a scowl, “I apologize. You don’t deserve their hatred.”

She half smiles at him solemnly, “It’s alight. I figured that I wouldn’t exactly be welcome, but it’s still a lot to get used to.” She has never been afraid of humans, but that has certainly been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life, besides the whole ‘waking up in chains in a dungeon’ fiasco.

His tone is sympathetic. “I can’t image. Waking up in an unfamiliar place, no knowledge of how you got there and being accused of murdering a holy symbol? It can’t be easy.” 

She knows he is trying to make her feel better, but she dwells on that comment, not responding to him as they exit through the front gates.

They pass by the recruits training around the tents, and she spots the young man that she saved three days prior. He sees her and stops his training instantly with a slacked jaw. She smiles at the young man, remembering his face well and happy to see is still alive and looking rather spirited while rushing towards her and _oh Creators, he is running really fast._

Before she can greet him, however, he slides from the snow to a rough halt right in front of her and bombards her with his praise and gratitude, “Herald! Thank you so much for saving me. You truly are a blessing to us all!” He has this doe eyed, awestruck look about him, completely different then the previous humans that thought her “the Herald”, though still making her uncomfortable. She hates all this attention, but she would rather have them think her a holy symbol than a murdering pariah.

She has no idea how to respond to the soldier’s admiration so she looks to the Commander for help and he shrugs his shoulders with slightly raised brows. She searches her brain for any answer to this, remembering the few times she spent with the human merchants that her clan sometimes traded with, and she comes up with an educated guess.

“Yes, well, you’re welcome. May the Maker watch over you, young man.” It’s awful, she knows. She tries to say it with as much diplomacy and sincerity as possible, but it comes across as forced and rehearsed in her ears.

The soldier doesn’t seem deterred by it though, and he bows respectfully, “Thank you, oh thank you so much, my lady.” He quickly salutes the Commander, who nods back at him with an amused expression, and then the boy scampers off to continue with his drills enthusiastically. She has to admire his devotion to this cause, even after narrowly escaping a painful death. She shakes her head. _This is all just too bizarre._

The pair resume their walk along the path leading out of the camp for a moment until he begins to chuckle under his breath. She narrows her eyes at him playfully, “What?”

“You had no idea what to say to him, did you?” and she swears he is teasing her.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “Not really, no. I’m not familiar with your religion, only what I’ve overheard other humans say, but I couldn’t in good conscious just tell him off, so I did the best I could.” 

He smiles gratefully at her, “Thank you for that. It’s better that you didn’t. Maker knows we need as much hope as we can get right now, and if you can provide that for some of them, then that’s good enough.”

Ellana nods her head, “Though I don’t believe I am what they all think I am, I do agree with that.”

He smirks, then heaves a heavy breath, changing the topic of conversation, “So, you’re Dalish, right?” he inquires.

Throwing his teasing right back at him, “What gave me away”? She smirks flirtatiously.

He laughs again and she doesn’t miss the slight blush to his cheeks, “Well, actually, I was just curious as to why a Dalish elf was at the Conclave to begin with.”

She sighs, knowing that this would come up eventually, “I suppose there is no sense in lying to you now, what with Leliana able to dig up anything she wants on me. I swear, that woman scares me.” Ellana shudders thinking of the frightening red head.

He barks out laugh, “You’re not the only one.”

A smile blooms across her face, then she responds, “I was sent to spy, essentially,” he turns his head to her with brows furrowed and she waves a hand dismissively, “and before you ask, my Keeper was concerned about the mages and Templars, just like everyone else. My job was to observe the meeting and report back to her with information. But, then the explosion happened, of which I still have no memory of, and then, well, you know the rest.”

He listens intently to her and then replies, “I see. And what sort of information were you to gather?”

 _No harm in telling him this I think,_ “Mostly just how severe the situation is and how the humans were going to handle it. It was supposed to be peace talks, after all, but there was nothing peaceful about what happened. She wanted to know if we needed to move farther away, so that we would not be caught up in the chaos.”

He nods, content with her explanation, “I suppose that’s understandable. The situation has gotten rather out of hand and it would not be long before the war expanded beyond Thedas. It’s reasonable to believe that your Keeper would want to keep a close eye on it.”

She hums in acceptance then tilts her head to him, “Why were you there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Not at all. I was recruited by Lady Cassandra about six months ago for the Commander position. I didn’t like where I was before, so I eagerly accepted the chance at a change of scenery.” 

Ellana notices he purposefully doesn’t elaborate what he did before so she doesn’t pry at what his previous employment was. She figures if he wanted her to know, he would have told her.

They continue chatting for a while as they follow the path closer to the edge of the lake, their boots crunching in the white snow. He is so easy to talk to; she feels content around him, happy in ways she doesn’t understand and there is a familiarity between them that can’t be explained. By the way he is walking so close to her, their hands brushing against each other; she hopes he is feeling the same.

He speaks with such passion about their cause, such determination and forcefulness, and she admires him for it. She could tell that he cares so much for his troops, even though he might curse them for being idiots sometimes, which is apparently often enough to mention it. She could spend hours listening to him speak of strategy and lectures on weapons training, even though she has never picked up a sword in her life. He just has such enthusiasm that she can’t help the smile that appears on her lips, watching him with great fondness, encouraging him to continue.

They end up at the dock overlooking the frozen water, the shining emerald of the giant, menacing hole in the sky reflecting on the ice mystically. They are silent for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company, until Ellana speaks up.

“I should thank you.” She says timidly.

He turns to her, tilting his head at her in question, “For what?”

She swivels to face him but begins to wring her hands anxiously, avoiding his eyes, “Not only for standing up for me but, I had heard that you carried me from the temple when I was knocked unconscious. Thank you.”

She doesn’t realize he is walking closer to her as she talks until he purrs almost right in her ear, “It was my pleasure.”

Ellana’s stomach flips when she hears his sultry tone and slowly lifts her eyes, gazing at him through her lashes, noticing he is only a few inches away from her. She blushes at the warmth and heat in his golden eyes and he is so close she can feel the breath of him on her lips. She wants to slant her head just slightly, close her eyes, bring those alluring lips to hers and she boldly moves in to do just that.

There is a loud crash and a few shouts in the distance towards the camp. She jumps away from him with a gasp, the moment ruined by his rambunctious recruits. He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck –again- and she giggles breathily at his annoyed face, tucking some lose hair behind her ear. She can’t believe she was about to kiss him; what is wrong with her?

He sighs exasperatedly, “Well, Herald, I really should-”

“Ellana.”

He blinks, “Pardon?”

“My name is Ellana.” It comes out slow and as more of a question than an answer, as if she has even forgotten her own name.

He smiles warmly at her, “Ellana, then.” Oh, she loves how her name rolls off his tongue with his voice that is as pure as silk.

He takes her hand, calming there fidgeting and brings it to his lips. “I should return to my duties, Ellana.” He brushes his lips, warm and soft, on the back of her hand while gazing into her eyes. Her mouth opens slightly and her breath quickens, a spark of heat shooting right between her legs. He smirks at her reaction, the scar on his lip pulling tight and she unconsciously licks her lips, having the sudden urge to run her tongue over it. He watches her tongue with a rising heat in his molten gold irises, but drops her hand abruptly, straightens, and turns to saunter back towards the camp without another word.

She watches him walk away with a lump in her throat. She lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, wanting to squeeze her thighs together to just get some friction. She runs her hand through her dark hair, coming to rest on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She bites her lip, contemplating what just occurred between them. Of all things, a male shemlen is the thing that sparks her insides to life. She grins and giggles girlishly to herself in astonishment at this whole mess and gazes into the ominous sky with a content sigh. _What have I gotten myself into?_

Not far from where she stands, hiding in the dense trees, a pair of eyes as black as the Void watch her malevolently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's confusing, that jerk Templar's name is Byron Mitchell.  
> Comments and kudos are loved!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed chapter. Life happened and I couldn't sit down and write. And I also did not expect smut this early on, but Cullen had other ideas. The smut kinda got away from me, haha.

The Commander heaves a big sigh, resting his elbows on his desk while rubbing his temples. The headaches are getting worse and it is becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate. The candle on his desk is burning low in the darkness of his tent, nightfall having come long ago. The wind was quietly howling outside with the soft murmurs of his newest recruits around the small make shift bon fire. He knew he needed to sleep, but he did not want to face the nightmares that surely awaited him, so he decided to work until exhaustion finally took him and he was too tired to even dream.

His thoughts then turned to Ellana, as they always seemed to do. It has been a little over a month now since she had decided to stay and join the Inquisition, and she has become quite the leader, much different than the timid little bird that she was when she first arrived.

He had such a strong protective instinct over her the minute he met her in that desecrated temple. She was just so small and fragile, with the biggest, most innocent emerald eyes he has ever seen, that his heart was bursting with the need to always be by her side and defend her. It was just a bizarre feeling. It almost felt like magic when he was near her, but with a pleasant buzzing under his skin that would turn pleasurable when he was closest to her instead of the usual wariness he would feel around other mages. And his skin burst in arousal whenever he kissed her hand on the pier the first time they ventured there, which is why he scurried away, trying to hide the prominent evidence of it.

It’s so difficult for him to watch her head out to some location or another, not knowing what obstacles or dangers she would face. He wants desperately to go with her, but he knows his place, even if it pains him to be parted from her. He has such a strong connection with the elf; he swears he can even feel her when she is away. And when she returns, all he wants to do is take her into his arms and kiss her breathlessly and never let her go. They do exchange letters, but it is barely enough to sate him as he waits for her to return.

They have been walking every day that she was in Haven, always ending at the same destination, the small pier overlooking the frozen lake. They found comfort in each other and in that spot, an easy banter always coming between them. He is usually wary of mages, but she is the exception. There was just something about her that cast all his suspicion aside. He deliberately did not reveal to her that he was a former Templar, not knowing how extensive her knowledge would be of the Order. He didn’t want to scare her away. He would have to confess to her eventually, but he was hoping to delay it until absolutely necessary.

He was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain. His usual awkwardness with women was replaced by a confidence he didn’t understand, as if he already knew what her reaction would be to his advances.

He sighs again, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He will not be getting any more work done tonight with his thoughts gnawing away at him like a mabari chewing a bone. He lifts from his chair and goes to his bed, blowing out candles and bathing the room in darkness as he strips of his armor down to his breeches. He always wakes up sweating through his tunic so he takes mercy on what little clothes he has and prepares for the worst of nightmares.

Once lying down on his back, he shifts around and tries to get comfortable. He closes his eyes and attempts to sleep off the imminent headache, but his thoughts…and his groin, have other ideas.

It’s not uncommon that he thinks of Ellana in this way, no matter how hard he tries to resist. Her innocent face and her lithe curves tempt him like a desire demon. He pictures her brilliant green eyes, her delicate vallaslin, and plump pink lips. He has so desperately wanted to kiss those lips, but he has been holding himself back. She has enough to deal with than his love sick foolishness, but that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing what it will be like he when he finally gets to taste her.

His cock begins to swell in its confines and he unconsciously moves his hand down to palm himself through the thin layer of his breeches with a quiet moan. He imagines her laying on his bed, spread before him in the tiniest lingerie, barely covering her most succulent flesh. Her breasts, small and full, heaving with her heavy breathes. Just thinking about her luscious lips parted, her pink tongue running along her bottom lip as she looks up at him with those sparkling green eyes, wanton and pleading for his attention is enough to fray his self-control.

He groans, unlacing his pants quickly, pulling them down enough to fish out his engorged erection. Maker, he is ridged and pulsing. Thinking about her in such wicked ways has him rock hard and leaking clear fluid out of his swollen, red tip.

He takes himself in hand, sighing in relief at receiving some friction, even though he wishes it was her small hands wrapped around his thick, velvety cock. His fantasy then turns even more scandalous, as he begins to stroke himself, imagining his sweet little Ellana, naked with legs spread wide open, ready for him to take her. Her cunt would be so soft, so pink and glistening with her juices. He craves to be her first, the only cock she will ever take inside her. He licks his dry lips at the thought, biting the bottom one roughly.

She most likely is untouched from what he understands of elven culture. She would be too tight to even accept him into her small body. He strokes faster, letting his mind go wild, imagining slowly plummeting into her constricting, pink channel, breaking through her maidenhead and finally claiming her as his. She would be writhing, demanding him to fuck her harder, faster, and oh, Andraste preserve him, he would give it to her. He would sink his cock into over and over again, pounding her lithe, tiny body in the mattress, fucking her hard enough to where her petite breasts bounce in his face with each rough thrust, and he would eagerly bend his head to suckle on her perfect, rosy nipple. She would be screaming his name, panting for him like a bitch in heat and digging her nails into his shoulder, vocally begging him to claim her with his seed.

He begins to moan aloud, “Fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut, moving his hand up and down his throbbing length in a furious rhythm, desperate to find his explosive release. He brings his knees up, spreading his legs. He is almost there, right on the precipice of intense pleasure and he takes his idle hand and brings it down to cup and massage his tightening balls. His abdomen clenches, his breathing is erratic, he is so desperate to shoot his cum –deep inside her tight, pink pussy – all over himself.

“Cullen?”

He is so delirious in his pleasure that he thinks that she is whimpering his name in his fantasy, so he moans in response, stroking faster, “Mmm, yeah. Say my name.” 

“Cullen?” His hand stops mid stroke, his balls protesting the halt in stimulation. His eyes open wide as he is pulled out of his wicked and depraved imagination. It sounded like she was right outside his tent. _She’s back already?_

He quickly, and painfully, tucks himself back into his breeches and laces them up, much to his member’s angry protest. He throws a shirt on and hurries to the tent opening like a foolish youth in love and lifts the flap eagerly, immediately seeing Ellana’s bright green eyes staring up at him. “Hi” she says shyly, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” She smiles warmly and his heart swells, and his cock twitches.

He can’t help but smile stupidly. She has been at the Storm Coast for a week, attempting to hire a notoriously rambunctious mercenary band and they did not expect her back until tomorrow night, so this is a nice surprise and he lets it show on his face. “Not at all.” And he motions her in, closing the flap behind her. “We didn’t expect you back so soon. Not that I’m complaining.” He smirks.

She tucks some of her auburn hair behind her ear nervously, “Well, we were able to convince the new hires to come back to Haven right away so we made good time.” She looks tired with dark circles under her eyes and some dirt smudged on her face. She must have come directly to him before going to her cabin to clean up and rest.

He steps up to her and raises his hand to rid of the soil on her face, making her cheeks tint pink. He adores her bashfulness, “You came to see me first?” he whispers.

“Of course.” She clears her throat, wringing her hands anxiously, “Just so you know that we made it back safely.” She laughs and sheepishly smiles, still avoiding his gaze. His smirk turns to an appreciative smile and he forgets to respond to her, too captivated by her beauty and youthfulness.

Ellana looks up at his silence and gets a good look at him and then frowns, her brow creasing and all he wants to do is massage it away with kisses, “You haven’t been sleeping.” She accuses.

He shakes his head in the negative, “I had work to do.” He was not about to tell her he was just masturbating to the thought of her in such…debauched ways.

She pouts, pushing out her bottom lip and he has to resist the urge to bite it, “You know you need your rest.” She says worriedly.

“I know, but it’s difficult for me to rest when I know you are out there, fighting Maker knows what without me by your side.” She smiles at him and he does not stop himself from bringing her into his arms, engulfing her in his much larger frame. He kisses the top of her head, breathing in her intoxicating sent, and murmurs against her hair, “I missed you.” She hums in response and nestles against him.

He holds her tight to his body, not even thinking if she could feel the evidence of his painful arousal still jutting out impatiently between his legs. But she does. She gasps when her stomach brushes it and she slowly lifts her eyes to him. He panics, thinking she is going to scream and run out of his tent, but her mouth parts as she looks up into his amber eyes, heat clear in her gaze. They are so close, all he would have to do is lean down and brush his lips against hers….

“Hey Sparrow!” she inhales sharply and breaks from his hold at Varric’s yell outside of Cullen’s tent, “When you and Curly are done ‘reacquainting’, get over to the tavern and have a drink with us.”

Cullen rubs the back of his neck nervously as he raises his eye brows, desperate to change the subject, “Sparrow?” he asks her amusedly.

She rolls her eyes, “I whistle at birds. There were a lot of them around my clan. It’s a habit and now Varric is having fun with it, apparently.”

He smiles warmly, grazing her cheek with his thumb, “It suits you.”

She ducks her chin, but he can still see the shy smile on her lips, “Well, I should go get cleaned up and join the party. You, “she pokes him in the chest, which gets a chuckle out of him, “get some rest. Alright?”

His grin broadens, he so loves her ordering him around, if only playfully, “As you wish.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling. She turns to leave and at the threshold of his tent, looks over her shoulder back at him. He says nothing as they lock eyes for a few intense moments, then she is gone.

He listens intently for her feet crunching in the snow. The minute her footsteps fade, he jumps back into bed, unlacing his breeches like a mad man and takes himself in hand again. His solid erection has not gone down a bit. If anything, her presence surrounding him kept his length raging with the need to be touched by her, by someone. He strokes quickly, not needing much to get back to where he was. His hips starting to thrust into his tight palm, his mind supplying her fingers, her mouth, or _Maker yes please_ , her sweet little cunt in its stead. He latches on to the last image, the only thing he needs to finally hurtle over the edge.

“Oh fuck.” He hunches over, squeezing his throbbing length harshly, “Oh, Maker yes, Ellana.”

He cums violently with a loud groan, spurting thick, white ropes all over his chest and bobbing hand, begging in his mind for his cock to be milked by her silky, wet quim. Sparks of white light goes off in his brain and he is helpless to it, his mouth agape and panting harshly, riding the waves of pure ecstasy at the thought of his little elf cumming and constricting around him. Cullen strokes the last few drops out of himself, thrusting into his palm gently and whimpering, making a sticky mess all over himself.

He flops back down on the bed with a harsh exhale. That had to be one of the most powerful orgasms he has ever experienced. He keeps his hand remaining on his softening cock, slowly rubbing over the sensitive skin, unable to let go and throwing his other hand over his face. Maker’s breathe, he is a wreck. What was wrong with him? He has never had such vile, vulgar thoughts about a woman, but for the love of Andraste he loves every second of it. The absolute need to claim her was over whelming and he doesn’t know how much longer he will be able to resist that primal urge to just take her and keep her with him forever. He needs to get a grip on himself before he does something he will surely regret.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half Cullen POV  
> Second half Ellana POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...don't even know. Cullen has now taken on a different personality that I cannot stop writing. It's too fun.  
> I have no excuse for the last bit, I need them to be handsy. I defiantly would be.

“Ser. Dossier for you.”

Cullen jumps slightly at the unexpected voice of one of Leliana’s messengers. He flushes slightly in embarrassment at being caught off guard. He is weary this morning, not having gotten any sleep the previous night, even after that mind numbing orgasm he had thinking about Ellana. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t rest his racing mind, thinking of her. She has taken over his thoughts, and it is rather distracting.

He nods at the scout, taking the missive from him and sending the young man away with a flick of his wrist and he scurries away. He shakes his head to rid of the fog in his mind and looks over the missive containing information about The Iron Bull and his Chargers, the latest of the mercenaries that have been hired per the Herald’s request. He is impressed that Ellana was able to convince a Qunari of all people to join them. Whether for the money or for the cause, he isn’t sure, but at this point, he will take whatever is handed to him. He has a feeling it is probably the money, looking over to how much it will cost the Inquisition to hire them. Josephine is surely going to pitch a fit.

He motions for another scout to take the dossier from him as he walks through the tents, surveying every young trainee. He slowly watches each man’s form, their swings, their footing. As cynical as he is about these men, there is room for potential.

He stops at the back of the makeshift sparring area, standing at a parades rest, observing the training of his newest recruits. He shakes his head with barely contained irritation at some of the young boys, because they really are just boys. He appreciates the enthusiasm but Maker, these men don’t know the difference between the blade and the pommel. He watches a young recruit get bested by an error in pivots, an easy flaw, and he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

He feels a presence approaching behind him, and he does not need to turn around to recognize the soft footfalls of an elf. He is barely able to hold off his smile as Ellana approaches

She bounds up to his side cheerfully, her eyes bright, “Hi Commander.”

He turns his head to greet her, smiling warmly at her emerald eyes and sweet grin. He chuckles, her jovial mood infectious, “Good morning.”

She tilts her head like a curious bird, studying his features, “Did you sleep well?”

He can’t hide his blush at the mention of last night and turns quickly from her, “Very. Thank you.” He sees out of his peripherals that she is narrowing her eyes at him knowingly, likely noticing the dark circles under his eyes. Her gaze softens and she looks at him worriedly, “Cullen…”

He cuts off her softly, but firmly, turning to look in her eyes, “I’m fine, dear.”

She blushes prettily at the endearment and tucks an auburn wave behind her elegant ear. She clears her throat anxiously and asks, “So, how we doing?” she waves a hand to the recruits.

He sighs deeply, eyes returning to his men, “They defiantly do not lack in enthusiasm, but in a real fight, I fear we are outmatched until they receive some proper training.” 

She surveys the sparring men quietly, “I don’t recognize some of them. Where have they come from?” She always makes a habit of greeting every new recruit that arrives in Haven and he admires her for it. The men certainly enjoy talking to a pretty elf.

“Most are volunteers,” he explains, “which is why I am not complaining as much as I would be, but that is just the issue. They are farm boys, having never grasped a sword in their lives. I would need to spend one on one time with each of them to have them be decent, but we do not have the luxury for that.” She hums in agreement and they fall into a comfortable silence.

His eyes land on Mitchell, who is sparring with his own partner. His “followers” are watching close by, and Cullen glowers at the two men not practicing their drills. The Templar currently in battle with the new recruit loses his footing in the loose snow and slips, falling onto his back. His opponent mimics the swing that would have decapitated him, claiming victory.

Cullen shakes his head, his browed furrowed as he address him harshly, “Mitchell! Pay attention to your footing!”

Mitchell narrows his eyes at the Commander while rising from the ground, grumbling, “The damn snow made me slip.”

The Commander barks an unamused laugh, “Is that what you will tell your opponent whenever in a real fight? To halt in his attack because you slipped?”

“In a real fight,” Mitchell turns his glare to his sparring partner, who has a nervous expression, “and a real enemy, I could easily win.”

“Is that so?” Cullen asks, crossing his arms over his chest, unimpressed.

The other recruits have stopped their sparring, watching the confrontation. Mitchell points his sword at Cullen, a clear act of defiance as he accuses, “I haven’t seen you out here sparring with us, Commander.” He sneers the last word, “Why don’t you fight me? Unless all that time ordering everyone around has made you soft.” He smirks, clearly enjoying antagonizing him.

Cullen raises one eye brow at this man’s arrogance. This would be a perfect opportunity to show the new recruits that he has earned his spot as Commander, and it’s about time he put this disobedient prick in his place, “Very well then.” He uncrosses his arms, “Jameson!” A young recruit runs up to the Commander and salutes, “My shield.”

The recruit scurries off into his tent and returns promptly with his shield, handing it to him with a, “Ser”. Cullen equips it, testing the familiar weight and rolls his neck, working out the kinks in his stiff neck. He chances a glance to Ellana, who is watching the incident intently and wearily looking at him in question with her brows furrowed. He smirks and winks at her to calm her nerves and she smiles bashfully. Nothing like getting your adrenaline pumping then a blushing maiden awaiting you after victory.

His eyes lock onto Mitchell’s, who is watching the exchange between the Commander and the elf, clear disgust on his features. Cullen decides to ignore his impulse to tear this man’s throat out for sneering at his Ellana, for now. The young Templar readies his stance and Cullen can spot every flaw in his form. His shield is too high, his feet too close together. This Templar was always too arrogant for his own good and Cullen mentally shakes his head. _This will be too easy._

They circle each other slowly, their eyes never wavering. He can see the subtle shift of Byron’s shield arm and Cullen waits patiently for the inevitable to happen. Sure enough, Mitchell strikes first, with no finesse, his sword coming down clumsily on Cullen’s shield, the Commander deflecting the blow easily. He swivels behind him and kicks the younger man in the backs of his knees, forcing him down into a kneel. Cullen lifts his sword to deal the “killing blow” when Mitchell lifts his shield to block behind him, quickly rising to this feet. He slices his sword horizontality with a loud grunt of frustration, attempting to gut the blond human, but Cullen deflects with an easy lift of his shield.

The Commander thrusts his sword against the Templars side, representing another defeat. The Templar sneers at the sword at his side, swinging his own against Cullen’s, pushing it out of the way, not giving up his useless attempt to best him. He strikes again and again, not even fazing the Commander, blocking his swings easily. Mitchell is clearly frustrated and Cullen uses it to his advantage, able to anticipate every move he makes, which only angers the young Templar further.

He chances another look at Ellana, and she is biting her bottom lip and subtly squeezing her thighs together at the display, heat clear in her emerald eyes. He swears he smells something sweet in the air coming from her and a primal urge to defeat this prick and show Ellana who is the alpha male rolls over him and he growls, facing the man again. He feels like a lion attempting to impress his chosen mate, and he is determined to win his prize. _Maker, when did I become such a beast?_

Cullen is getting rather tired of this man’s impatience and irritation, essentially swinging his blade carelessly with no direction in his determination to strike him, so he bashes his shield into the man’s chest, pushing him back against the rock face and Mitchell drops his shield in the process. Cullen throws his own shield in the snow to free his arm and grabs the other man by the throat and throws him against the rocks. The Commander raises his sword and brings it down onto the man’s neck lightly, not penetrating the skin, which signifies the killing blow, and the young Templar’s ultimate end.

They are both panting heavily, though Cullen not as much. Mitchell’s expression is one of pure rage and Cullen says slowly and quietly in his face, “If I were you’re enemy, you’d be dead.” Mitchell sneers, grunting and squirming against the hold on his throat and Cullen leans further in, “Consider yourself lucky, that I am not.” He releases his neck roughly, pushing him further into the rocks before letting go and the Templar slumps to the ground, coughing and rubbing his bruised neck. Cullen turns and addresses the on lookers, “Anyone else wish to challenge me?” The remaining recruits look to each other nervously and at the silence of the audience, he barks, “Back to your drills!” The men scamper back to sparring, the sounds of metal hitting metal echoing in the valley again.

Cullen huffs and straightens his cloak, his right, gloved hand slicking back his blond curls that have been disheveled a bit and his eyes land on his prized elf that he has fought so valiantly for. She is beaming at him happily until her expression melts into one of terror.

He hears a rustling behind him and looks back with his eyes without turning his head, hearing Ellana shout, “Cullen!” He swiftly turns, dodging the surprise attack and bringing his fist right into the Templar’s nose. Mitchell’s nose breaks with a crunch, and the man falls in the snow holding his wound, crimson staining the white powder pouring from his injury. Cullen just shakes his head with a sigh, as if disappointed in a defiant child.

Cullen motions irritably to Mitchell’s friends, “Take him to Adan, get him looked at.” The two men nod, approaching the wounded Templar and take each arm, escorting him out of the training yard, but not before Mitchell looks back at the Commander with pure hatred in his black eyes.

Cullen’s assistant, Jameson, runs to take pick up the Commander’s shield left forgotten in the snow to take back to his tent to be polished, and Cullen approaches Ellana, who has been watching the entire altercation with mixed emotions. She has a worried expression on her face as he gets close to her, “Are you alright?” she asks, looking over him frantically.

He smirks at her, waving his hand dismissively, “Mmm, barely a challenge. His arrogance will be his undoing. He just needed a swift kick in the ass, which I was pleased to supply. I may not like the man, but he is still willing to fight for us, so I will tolerate him, for now.” 

She lays her small hand on his bicep, and he has to resist the urge to groan at her touch, “As long as you’re okay.” She says sweetly.

He takes her chin in his hand gently and tilts her head up towards his, smiling warmly at her, “Perfectly fine, my dear.” She blushes, her cheeks tinting pink. He so loves that he is able to get that reaction out of her. _Blushing maiden, indeed._

He releases her chin and she ducks her had shyly, giggling softly while tucking some loose auburn hair behind her pointed ear. He turns his focus back to his troops while standing relativity close to his sweet, dainty elf.

She clears her throat, getting his attention once more with an arch of his brow in question, “So, what is the story between you and those three anyway? They really don’t seem to like you, or me for that matter.” She motions to the retreating Templars and he turns towards them.

He pauses before answering, “I knew them from before. We were,” He chooses his words carefully here, not yet ready to tell her of his previous employment, “Acquaintances of sorts. Byron has always been a hot head with no respect for authority. His friend there,” He points to the other Templar on Mitchell’s right, “Clyde Braxton, is no better. Though he does seem to have some kind of hero worship for Byron that I don’t quite understand. I believe they are half-brothers, if I’m not mistaken.”

“What about him?” She gestures to the blue eyed man following meagerly behind them.

“Ah, well that’s Todd Ramsey. He uh, isn’t like them from what I can tell but he has always seemed a bit off to me. Perhaps not in an obvious way but, I would not put it past him to be trouble judging from the sort of company he keeps.”

She is quiet for a moment and he is content to not be discussing his former colleges any further until she says softly, “He watches me.”

Cullen’s head snaps to her face, seeing her troubled expression as her eyes linger on the retreating Templars leaving the training yard. He narrows his eyes, looking back to the trio heading through the gate, eyes locking onto the back of Ramsey’s head. His blood heats up at the thought of that creep having eyes for _his_ Ellana and he rests his hand on the pommel of his sword instinctively, responding to her in a tight voice with barely contained anger, “Does he?”

She shakes her head dismissively, “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s probably just me being paranoid.”

“Perhaps.” But his eyes do not waver from the blue eyed Templar until all three disappear behind the front gates.

Apparently his barely contained temper is soothed by just a touch of her delicate hand on his forearm and he turns to her, his gaze softening immediately as she says, “Hey, don’t worry about it.” He breathes in a deep breath and nods his head. “I’m going to go get some breakfast. Join me?” She is staring up at him with such youthful, innocent eyes and it makes want to melt at her request, powerless to deny her.

Cullen’s grin is inevitable, “I’ll be there in a moment.” He assures. Her smile brightens and she turns to walk back up into Haven, her hips swaying as she goes. He notices some of the recruits watching her form and he narrows his eyes, turning his wrath onto his men and shouts, “Hey! Eyes front!”

\--------------------

Ellana giggles girlishly to herself as she packs the snow into a little ball. She has left a rather racy note for Sera in the Tavern, hopefully tricking her into meeting Ellana by the little cabin outside of Haven where she found those notes for Adan to “show her something”. Unbenounced to the blond elf, a nice, hard ball of ice will be hitting her directly in the face when she comes around the corner.

It’s all in good fun though. Sera and her pranks have been a torture to Ellana, not used to the way the lewd elf speaks or behaves. But Ellana decided to give the other elf a taste of her own medicine. She was never one to play inappropriate pranks and being childish, but she had enough or her shenanigans.

She can hear footsteps coming down the path and she ducks behind a large boulder with an evil smile, tucking the ball of snow close. When she hears the footsteps draw close enough, she darts out and throws the snowball as hard as she can right into…Cullen!?

It lands on his mantle, Ellana aiming for Sera’s shorter face, and he sputters, bewildered at the sudden assault.

Her hands fly to her mouth in a gasp, her eyes widening in horror, “Oh, Creators, ir abelas, I am so sorry! I thought you were Sera!”

He just stares at her with an unreadable expression and her shoulders beginning to shrink, thinking she is now in big trouble, until the corner of his lip with the scar bisecting it begins to lift in a devilish smirk. Ellana narrows her eyes in confusion as he nonchalantly bends down and picks up a handful of snow. She eyes him curiously for a moment, watching him calmly pack the snow into a ball and then she realizes what he is doing as he throws it at her.

She squeaks as she dodges the snow, ducking behind a tree. She peaks out from behind the pine and looks at his smug face, his arms crossed over his broad chest and she smirks back at him, gathering up another bundle of snow quickly. _So he wants to play, huh?_

She throws it, now aiming for his face and he dodges the attack, rushing past it towards her, a predatory grin on his face. She laughs loudly and turns to run backwards, weaving through the trees and careful of the loose snow. She feels like a prancing Halla being hunted by a roaring lion and her blood is pumping with the thrill of the chase. She leads him deeper into the trees, easily gliding through them, all while sniggering and trying to escape the clutches of the ferocious beast.

He catches her by the waist as she tries to dart behind a tree and she squeals happily at being caught, his grip tightening on her lithe body. She half-heartedly wrestles with him and she spots the wolfish grin on his face as he man handles her. They both end up slipping on a patch of ice, making them tumble to the ground. He immediately throws his hand under the back of her head to keep her from smashing her skull to the ground and he ends up lying above her, though not enough to feel squished by his heavy armor. Even with the slight misstep, they are both laughing at their foolishness. She does love seeing him like this. Not so stern and tired with all his responsibilities, but happy, relaxed and actually enjoying himself.

It is then that Ellana realizes that he is nestled between her legs and his face is in her neck. The laughing dies down and he lifts his head to look into her bright green eyes, his amber ones swirling with unsaid emotion, both their grins melting into a different, more intense expression. Ellana lifts her bare hand to cup his face and the moment flesh meets flesh, a flash of heat erupts between them, both of them inhaling sharply at the contact, his pupils blowing wide. Where her fingers meet his skin, tingles begin to bloom in tendrils through her fingertips, traveling down her arm and into her chest. She begins to tremble at the intensity of his gaze and the warmth and she whines softly at him, for him.

His head dives and he buries his face into her neck, breathing in her scent deeply and caging her with his much larger frame. He lets out a shaky breath and asks tentatively against her pointed ear, “Ellana?”

She lifts her arms around his neck and her nails scratch roughly into his blond curls, lifting her head to nuzzle his neck, “Oh, Cullen.” His scent is intoxicating, bordering addictive. He smells like the morning rain and soft sand, with hints of metal and parchment and _male_. She squeezes her thighs to his waist, trying to hold him closer to her.

Cullen begins to subtly roll his hips against hers and she moans softly when she feels his clothed erection against her core, the friction brushing her clit that has sparked to life. She lifts her right leg to latch onto the side of his waist and Cullen slides his right hand down her side to cup her rear and holding her thigh against him. He whispers in a strangled, tight voice, sounding just as frightened as she is, “Please tell me I’m not the only one feeling this?”

She shakes her head against his throat, squeezing her eyes shut, lifting her hips against him helplessly, grinding her heat against the hard bulge, as if she cannot stop herself, “No. No, I feel it, too.” She is wanton, desperate for this human. This intense need to be with him, to have no barriers between them, to feel his naked flesh on hers is almost unbearable, painful even. Having never lain with a man before this, she has no idea where this fierce need has come from, and apparently, he is feeling the same powerful desire.

He begins to babble, all while slowly and unconsciously rolling his hips into hers, his hot breath against the flushed skin of her neck sending shivers down her entire body, “I cannot stop thinking about you. You are in my every waking thought, haunting me, surrounding me.” They are both beginning to pant, rubbing and groping shamelessly against each other. 

“I feel as if I know you,” he moans, taking a deep breathe, “as if I have always known you.”

She nods frantically into his throat while murmuring breathlessly, “I know, I know, me too. What is this?” Her heart is beating rapidly and she can feel his pulse pounding just as hard in his throat.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what this is,” He pauses and she feels a slight sting on her neck as he _bites her_ , and she keens in unexpected pleasure, “but oh, Andraste preserve me, I don’t care.” He starts to brush light, wet kisses along her throat and she sighs at the contact, his lips hot and soft against her warm flesh. He slides up to right below her ear, teasing a lick before breathing out, “Every time I touch you, I have this overwhelming need to _take you,_ ” she gasps as he rolls his hips harder and his voice becomes rougher, “to _claim you,_ ” another rough thrust of his hips and he literally _growls_ , it sounding absolutely feral, “to make you _mine_.” She whimpers and moans her desperate agreement and presses her lips to any part of his face that she can from this angle. He lifts his head slowly to gaze into her eyes, his golden orbs intense with desire and possessiveness that send shivers up her spine. He bends his head down ready do devour her, their lips a breath away…

“Commander!”

Ellana freezes and ducks her head under the human male’s chin, hiding her flushed, rosy face. She feels him lift his head slowly to the intruder, feeling him literally snarl, a low rumble in his throat that almost sounds animalistic. He instinctively shifts to block her from view as if protecting her, which is ridiculous because they are in no real danger here. _What is happening to us?_

“What?” Cullen barks at the scout and Ellana grips him harder, neither of them feeling any shame in their current predicament.

The young man clears his throat nervously, “Pardon me Ser, but the new recruits from the Hinterlands just arrived awaiting for their debriefing, Ser.” The poor messenger was shifting uncomfortable on his feet, eyes darting everywhere except for the two bodies tangled together in the snow. That’s when Ellana notices that she is on the ground, in the snow, with the Commander’s hips pressed between her legs. What a precarious position to be in, _and my back is freezing._

“Give me a moment.” The blond human orders. The scout salutes hastily and swivels to return to camp. Cullen sighs and reluctantly lifts onto his knees, then rises to his feet and offers a hand to Ellana. She takes it shyly and he lifts her easily into his arms, her head feeling dizzy and light.

He pulls her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzles her hair affectionately, “We will discuss this later, alright?” He murmurs softly.

She nods into his chest, “Yeah, alright.”

Cullen pulls back and smiles tenderly, taking her face in his hands and moves her head forward, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. She closes her eyes and sighs at such tender intimacy, much different than the desperate dry rutting just moments before. His lips are soft against her skin and he lingers for a moment, then pulls pack to press his forehead to hers, taking a moment to breathe in her scent. They open their eyes and stare at each other for a moment, before he smirks, “Come on.” He takes her hand and leads her back to the camp.

By the Dread Wolf, what was wrong with them? Dry humping like a bunch of adolescents in the middle of a forest? And with a shemlen? If the Keeper could see her now, she would probably die from embarrassment and shame. But there is no denying that there is some kind of strong connection between her and Cullen, one with such power that just having their skin touch overwhelms both of them with desire. She shakes her head to herself and smiles inwardly, glancing at the human. Her mind might be confused as to what potent magic draws them to each other, but her heart has already made up its mind and she squeezes his hand harder and he returns the affection as they return to Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twill all be explained...eventually.  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but important.
> 
> 2 things:
> 
> 1: Ellana still doesn't know that Cullen is a Templar
> 
> 2: Remember, my Ellana is a sweet, naive, and sheltered girl who is sensitive and too trusting. She grew up in a clan that was always friendly and always looking out for each other so she just can't imagine people wanting to hurt others for no reason. So if you are looking for a more aggressive and tough Inquisitor, this is not it.

Ellana hums to herself as she gently mixes the various herbs and flora for the new potions. She has taken to helping Adan and his assistants in some alchemy lately. Her knowledge on Dalish botany has been helpful in expanding their range of potions and poultices. The work is minimal and not very invasive, but she wanted to help out in any way she could. Even though she was always at the advisor meetings, she was still no leader. The only reason anyone listened to her was because of the Mark on her hand anyway.

But the mindless tasks did give her time to think. The past two months here have been a whirlwind of activity, much different than her life with her clan. She is happy to help any way she can, eager to learn and always welcoming of new people. She has enjoyed all of her adventures with her companions when they travel to this place or another for whatever tasks they have been given. She has been getting rather close to Varric, even though he is always trying to pry details about her and the Commander’s relationship.

Just thinking about the blonde, handsome human gives her butterflies. With his sweet words, his intense, warm eyes, and his strong arms wrapped around her. She feels giddy whenever she is in his presence, even if it is just to go over missives or troop movements in the Chantry. They do lock eyes occasionally over the war table, and the heat in his gaze is so powerful that she always ends up looking away with the brightest blush on her cheeks. She can always hear him chuckling at her softly when she does that, much to her embarrassment.

His display in the sparring area with that one Templar, Mitchell, along with what happened in the snow afterwards, is always on her mind as of late. The way he fought him with such strength and fluidity, and the way he looked at her in the middle of the fight – she just had to squeeze her thighs together to relive some of the ache that had pooled deep in her heated core, and she thinks he noticed that. Not that she was really trying to hide it from him. She didn’t want to hide it from him. She wanted him to take her right then and there, throw her into the snow and ravish her like an animal and…

She is jolted out of her thoughts when she hears the door to the cabin open, feeling a gust of the chilling mountain air and the elf pauses in her work to see one of Adan’s assistants, Eleanor, enter the room. The woman sees Ellana and gives her a bright smile, “Hey Ellana.”

She smiles sweetly at the mage apostate, returning to her work, “Hello, Eleanor.”

The woman closes the door behind her and moves to her desk to pull out her own concoctions that she was working on tirelessly yesterday, “What are you working on today?”

Ellana waves a hand over the many herbs and empty vials on her work table, “Oh just, trying to improve these health potions. You wouldn’t believe how many of them Bull goes through due to their lack of potency. Or, maybe you would.” She laughs to herself at that remark. “Anyway, I found a lot of elfroot outside of Haven but, I think some prophets laurel would help this immensely.” Eleanor hums in her agreement and begins to extract her potion bottles and herb collection. Ellana continues to sing and sway in her seat to the soft melody.

Eleanor eyes her and snickers quietly, “You seem rather joyful this morning.”

Ellana lifts her head and grins broadly at the other woman, “I am! Cullen, er, I mean, the Commander invited me to have dinner with him tonight.” He had approached her the previous evening, an apology on his lips about how they haven’t had any time to talk. He asked her to join him since they have not had a chance to be alone since that rather, heated encounter outside of Haven. She has been missing his touch, and his oh, so seductive smiles that she eagerly accepted. She can still feel the tingling on the inside of her wrist where he had taken her hand and kissed her, a passionate promise in his warm, amber eyes.

The other mage shakes her head in exasperation, returning to her work, “I still can’t believe you are involved with that man.”

Ellana catches the apostate’s disapproving tone and she looks up at her to see her still shaking her head, “Why do you say that?”

She shrugs, “Well, because of what he did, especially with you being a mage. I must say, I would not be able to forgive him so easily.”

Ellana ceases her mixing and continues to look at her, furrowing her brows, “What are you talking about?”

Eleanor looks up to see the elf’s confused expression and she studies her features, “Ellana, don’t you know who he is?”

She raises a brow in question, “Uh, the Commander?”

Eleanor blanches a little, “Oh boy, um.” She takes a breath and looks around the cabin nervously, “Okay. Here,” She pulls out the chair from the desk that Adan uses and motions to Ellana, “You may need to sit down for this.”

Ellana is skeptical as she draws out the word, “Okay?” She eyes the offered chair warily but acquiesces to her request and sits facing her friend, the woman’s hands wringing nervously and her eyes darting anywhere but to the elf. Ellana’s eyes waver to worry as she says calmly, “Eleanor, you’re scaring me.”

The woman closes her eyes, heaves a heavy breath and begins in a somber voice, “Have you heard of Kirkwall?”

Ellana furrows her brows in mild confusion, “The shem city in the Free Marches?” Eleanor nods her head, “Yes, but I’ve never been there.”

“Do you know what happened there?”

She thinks back to when her Keeper informed the clan of catastrophe at Kirkwall, but with no real details, “We had heard that an apostate destroyed a chantry, but that’s about it.”

Eleanor begins to explain all of what happened in the City of Chains. How the apostate named Anders destroyed the Chantry and murdered hundreds of people and started the mage rebellion. Of how the Knight Commander went insane and invoked the Right of Annulment, sentencing every mage in the Circle to death. Of how life in the Circle was miserable and terrifying, every mage walking on thin ice, any little infraction possibly provoking a Templar into making them Tranquil or outright killing them. She certainly depicts quite the grizzly scene explaining the final confrontation between Meredith and the Champion.

Ellana listens intently to the woman’s tale of how all of this mess really started. As horrible as the story is, she has a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. She interrupts her with a shake of her head, “I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with Cullen?”

Eleanor squats in front of the elf and takes her hands in hers in a comforting gesture; apprehension etched into her face as she says gently, “Ellana…Cullen was her second in command.”

Ellana blinks slowly once, twice, and then she scoffs dismissively, “No. No that can’t be right, because then that would make him a-”

Eleanor interjects her realization firmly, “A Templar. Yes. He was her Knight-Captain.”

Her head is swimming, her thoughts jumbled in a confusing mess. Her keeper always warned her about Templars, about the brutal ways they treat mages and the unthinkable acts preformed against them. Thinking of Cullen in that manner, of a Templar with a mage hating agenda? She lowers her gaze, her eyes frantic over her hands clutched in the other woman’s fingers, “But, but he has never mentioned this before. Why would he…” She cannot believe what she is hearing. There is no way that Cullen would be that despicable. Ellana begins to get angry, ripping her hands from the other woman and lifting her eyes with defiance, “You lie…”

Eleanor stands, matching her ire, “Ellana, I was there! I saw him cut down mages. I saw him attack us for no reason!” Eleanor points in the direction of Cullen’s tent outside of Haven, “I witnessed him drag away a mage to become Tranquil just for writing letters to his sweetheart outside the Circle.”

Ellana’s eyes are as wide as saucers, but she stays silent. She licks her lips then and looks down at her hands again as she says quietly to herself, “But I’m a mage…”

Eleanor shakes her head twice, “He’s a monster, Ellana. And he still has the same view of mages, I’m surprised he hasn’t imprisoned every one of us in the dungeons by now. Including you.”

Ellana stands quickly at that, dismissing the other woman’s words, irritation contorting her face as she glares at Eleanor, “No. No, I don’t believe you. He would never do something that, that horrible.” She begins to head for the door hurriedly.

The other woman’s expression turns rueful as she shouts after her, “Ellana wait!”

The elf’s hand is on the handle and she turns it as she says to the other woman, “I need to go. Excuse me, please.” She is out the door before the other woman has time to stop her.

\-------------

She walks quickly down the steps towards the Commander’s tent outside of the gates of Haven, her boots sifting through the recent snowfall from the night before, but not too quickly to draw attention to herself. She cannot wrap her head around what she has just learned. Cullen? Her Cullen? A mage hating bigot? No, it’s not possible. The way he is with her proves that it’s not true. It must be another blonde human that was there. It has to be. There is absolutely no way that he was…she cannot even finish the horrid thought. She refuses to believe anything until she has talked to him about this first. _It’s a lie. It’s all a lie, please let it be a lie._

She arrives at his tent and stops right before the opening and she reluctantly prepares for the worst. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming down her racing heart. She pulls the flap back to reveal the Commander sitting at his make shift desk, scribbling away on some parchment, most likely going over the troop movements at the Storm Coast discussed in the latest advisor meeting.

Cullen looks up at her entrance and smiles warmly at seeing her and her heart flutters without her consent. There is no way that this sweet, compassionate man was responsible for the wrongful death and Tranquility of so many people, but she does take a defensive stance, just in case.

He lifts from his seat and walks over to her, his voice as smooth as honey, “Ellana, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” She almost gives in to his sinful tone, wanting to run into his arms and bury her nose in his chest to breathe in his alluring scent, but she plants her feet. She doesn’t answer his question, crossing her arms and hugging herself, eyes downcast.

He comes up to her and attempts to reach for her, but she recoils slightly at the sight of his hands that have supposedly destroyed so many innocent lives. He quickly retracts his offered hand and asks worriedly, his head tilting, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at his endearment, one of many she loves to hear from his full lips, but now only sounding painful and hollow in her ears. She lifts her gaze and searches his eyes, his usual warm whiskey orbs that she gets lost in for hours, now full of concern and trepidation. She steels herself, but her voice is barely a whisper as she asks the question she dreads to know the answer to, “Tell me about Kirkwall, Cullen.”

He visibly tenses, his jaw tightening and his eyes darkening, and not in the usual lustful way. He half turns from her then, his eyes lowering as he raises his hand and rubs the back of his neck, “Shit.”

Her eyes begin to water at his reaction, it being all the answer she needs, but she has to hear him say the words. She pushes forward, “Is it true? You’re a Templar?”

He turns back to her and raises his hands in a defensive position, “Ellana, please, just let me explain, I…” She waits for him to do just that, but she can see in his eyes that he is conflicted with himself about revealing whatever the truth really is. Instead, to her utter surprise, he goes on the defensive, “How did you find out about this?”

She furrows her brows angrily at him trying to deter the subject, “Does it matter?” 

He exhales in defeat, “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Her eyes are glistening with moisture now, and she is having difficulties looking at him, but she continues, her voice stronger, “Did you kill all those people? Turned innocent mages Tranquil for no good reason?” Her voice breaks on the last question.

He shakes his head, his brows drawn down in sorrow, “Ellana please, I-”

She buries her face in her hands, “I can’t believe this. I don’t want to believe this.” She lifts her head to look at him, his eyes boring into hers. She presses on one last time to get a straight answer out of him, “Is it true?”

He pauses and opens his mouth to say something, but he closes it again without saying a word. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping forward and he doesn’t meet her eyes as he answers dejectedly, “…yes.”

Her mouth hangs open in astonishment, all the air from her lungs being sucked from her in a loud whoosh, her tears no longer held back. She feels like she has been punched in the stomach, all the wind knocked out of her, her heart being ripped out of her chest. She thought she knew this man, she thought she could even love this man, but hiding a secret like this? Her voice rises as she demands, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you keep this from me?”

He puts his hands over his temples and rubs harshly, almost looking like he was going to pull his hair out, “I was going to tell you, this I swear. I just, never found the right opportunity and I…I couldn’t…” He lets go and he seemingly does not know what to do with his hands. He stumbles over his words, frantic for some kind of explanation that would resolve this, but she knows that there is nothing he can say to make this better. How could he justify doing something so inexcusable?

She hugs herself tighter, tears now flowing from her eyes, her lips in a thin line. She rubs her arms up and down for a few silent moments. She sniffs, her bottom lip trembling. She is barely able to get the words out as she says miserably, “I’m a mage, Cullen. Would you kill me for no reason, too?”

He shouts, “No!” She flinches at his outburst and he reaches for her with both hands, desperation clear on his features, “Ellana-”

She shakes her head vigorously and backs away from him, fear clear in her eyes, “No. Just don’t.” She lets out a quiet sob, and turns to walk out of his tent into the morning snow.

She treads to her small house, clutching herself tightly as her tears nearly freeze on her cheeks. She slams the door behind her and sinks down onto the floor with her back to the wood, pulling her knees to her chest and folding her arms over her eyes on her knees. Her quiet sobs are drown out by the howling wind from the mountain outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh that tugged at my heart a bit. Comments and kudos are appreciated!!
> 
> Btw anyone concerned about the lack of smut, oh don't worry. There will be a whole boat load of smut once they get there the first time, cause come on. Judging on all my other works? U bet ur ass there's gunna be a lot of smut, hehe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redcliff
> 
> POV changes throughout, but marked accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the week delay. I am writing as I go through the game and I haven't had time to sit down and play. That being said, I tried not to regurgitate the mission because we have all played the game. Of course, I put my own spin on how I would have wanted the mission to go. Enjoy!

**Cullen POV**

Miserable. Lonely. Ashamed. 

Those are the only emotions Cullen has been feeling for the past week, ever since Ellana ran out of his tent in a fit of terror and misery. She looked so frightened of him. It broke his heart, to see the tears of betrayal flow from her sparkling emerald eyes, knowing that he was the cause of them. He tried to explain, try to reason with her, but she bounded away from him before he got the chance.

The worst part was when she backed away from him like he was a monster, a demon, and to be honest, he feels like one. He feels as if his very soul was torn in two when she walked out of his tent a sobbing wreck and terrified of…him.

He has been especially short with his men as of late in addition to the depression he has fallen into. He doesn’t understand it. His life was normal, or as normal as it could get, before she barged into it, or fell into would be more appropriate. They have known each other for only a few months, they haven’t even kissed yet. He blushes at the thoughts of the other things they have done together though. But, now he cannot imagine his life without her. Just knowing that she is furious with him and not speaking to him, breaks his heart every time they have a meeting in the Chantry.

As he watches the Herald and her companions, Varric and Blackwal, prepare to leave for Redcliff from the front gates with his arms crossed over his chest, he cannot help but go over the argument the night before. Discussing whether or not to recruit the Templars or the mages has torn a hole in he and Ellana‘s already strained relationship. Naturally, Cullen chose the Templars; his reasoning’s clear and makes the most sense. And of course, Ellana decided to go after the mages. He remembers that argument well, and he is embarrassed that he had it with her in front of the other women at the war table.

_“We do not have the man power to overtake the castle, it is suicide.”_

_Ellana puts her hands on the table and narrows her eyes at him, “I’m not giving up on this. We need to go after them. After speaking with Fiona and the rest of the mages, there is something very wrong going on and I want to help them. This time magic business is serious and we need to take care of it. So we will be accepting Alexius’s invitation.” Damn her stubbornness. He admires her for how far she has come from the timid elf in the beginning to finally finding her voice, but ever since their fight, she has been especially stand offish with him. Not that he didn’t deserve it though._

_He shakes his head at her and says with concern, “You will die and we will lose the only means of closing the rifts.” As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, he regretted them._

_She flinched as if he had struck her and he cringed at the look of hurt on her beautiful features. She furrowed her brows at him, “So that’s all I am to you? Just the mark on my hand?”_

_Cullen shakes his head again, matching her expression. Of course she would take it that way, so he says gently, softening his gaze as he looks into her eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.”_

_She barks out a humorless laugh, “Isnt it? Seems that way to me. You keep secrets from me and have no regard for my feelings. I am obviously a means to an end for you and after this is all finished I’ll just be another dangerous mage to throw in a Circle, right?”_

_His voice grows in volume and he begins to get angry. She cannot possibly think of him that way, not that she has given him a chance to explain. He responds to her with a bite to his voice, “That is completely unfair, you know I would not-”_

_Cassandra clears her throat, “Perhaps this is not the time to discuss personal matters?”_

_He looks over to the Seeker, one of her brows raised in annoyance. The same expression is on the other women who have been silent during their exchange. To be honest he had completely forgotten they were in the room for a moment, his only focus on the elf that is still fuming sat him. He lets out a dejected sigh and schools his features, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “Of course.”_

_Ellana puts her head down like a scolded child and mutters, “Sorry.” They continue the discussion, but she does not look at him or even speak to him again._

After their confrontation, Leliana thankfully knew of a secret entrance that he could send his troops through to back up Ellana when she went through the front gates as bait. He still doesn’t like this idea. The thought of her in any kind of danger on purpose is a knife in his heart, especially since she will still refuse to speak to him. But she is the Herald so he must respect her decision.

The Tevinter mage passes him on the stairs to head to the stables and Cullen gives in to his frustration and swivels, grabbing the man by his collar. He leans into his face and murmurs with venom, “She comes back alive.” It is not a question. It is an order, one he will see carried out. If this mage even dares return without her, he will make him Tranquil himself. He does not like the flamboyant and arrogant attitude this mage projects, and he shows his distaste in his glare.

The mage clears his throat and slowly pulls Cullen’s hand off him with a huff, “Don’t worry, Commander. I’ll bring your elf back, mostly unscathed.” Cullen is not amused with his glibness and narrows his eyes further, but he relents and lets him go, the mage muttering to himself about what a brute he is, but Cullen pays him no mind. Ellana will at least be with Varric and Blackwall, two men he has come to respect and trust, so it eases his mind a bit.

He catches her eyes when she swings her leg over her horse, but that is all the attention she gives him. He watches them ride out down the path with a heavy heart. _Maker, please, bring her back to me._

**Ellana POV**

Ellana lands hard in the cold water on her hands and knees, just barely able to refrain from smacking fast first into it. She groans as she squeezes her eyes shut at the pounding in her head. She hears sloshing in the water next to her and spots Dorian in more or less the same condition she is in. She lifts her head and takes in her surroundings and an uneasy feeling sets in her stomach. A dungeon. Dark, cold, and flooded. She lifts onto her feet with uneasiness as she hears more splashing coming from the cell door in the front. She spots two men coming through the water with Venatori armor and one of them points at her and yells, “Hey! Who are you?”

With no time to think, she casts ice all around the two men as Dorian, who has recovered somewhat, strikes them both with lightening until both men are singed and dead. She looks around the dank room and asks with barely contained wariness, “What happened? Where are we?”

The Tevinter rubs his chin as he mulls it over, “I don’t believe it is a question of where – but when.” He begins to explain how the amulet must have sent them into an unknown time, but still somewhere in Redcliff castle. That just raises more questions for her, but there is little time to explain. They must find a way to get back.

She searches the dead guards and finds the key for the cell door, unlocking it with a click and it opens with a rusty creek. They walk silently up the stairs and to the right. Ellana watches the shards of red lyrium sticking out of the walls and the floors like moss, coving everything. There are cells all around them with piles of bones in each one. The putrid stench of death and decay is thick in the air and Ellana has to cover her nose to not be sick.

They stumble upon an elf in one of the cells and Ellana runs up to him, “Hey! Are you alright?” He continues to babble mindlessly, walking back and forth and not even noticing them.

Dorian puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to street her away, “He has lost his mind. We must move on.” She nods her head at Dorian and walks with him, the mages sputterings fading. They come up into a larger room with more Venatori, which they easily dispose of. Ellana looks between the doors to her left and to her right, and decides to turn left, not knowing where she is going. They walk through more stairs and cells until they hear breathing. Ellana cautiously comes upon the cell only to see Fiona standing against the wall, “Fiona!”

The mage turns her head, barely registering their presence, “You are alive.”

The two mages get as close to the cell as possible as Ellana asks, “What happened?” Fiona goes on to explain that they have been gone for a year and that someone called The Elder One has taken control of Thedas. Ellana recognizes that name from when Alexius was rambling in the throne room before she was blasted forward through time. Dorian tells the Enchanter that this can all be fixed if they just get to the amulet and set things right. 

They tell her they are sorry and turn to leave until Fiona says, “You must know. Your commander is here.” Ellana stops in her tracks and her breath catches in her throat, a shiver of fear running down her spine.

She turns around slowly to face Fiona, dread gracing her features. Her voice is small as she asks, “Cullen is here?”

“Yes, but I must warn you…he is not as he once was.”

The elf grabs the bars roughly, her eyes widened, “What! What does that mean?”

Dorian cuts in with a hand on her arm, “Ellana, we must go.” She looks at him in a panic, but relents by nodding her head, letting go of the bars and walking away, now with renewed determination. If he is here, then she needs to find him.

They discover Varric in the other rooms, who seems all too unfazed by what she is sure to have been a horrible experience, and Blackwall who has not taken this as well but thankfully both men are eager to get back into the fight.

They fight through more Venatori in the main chamber and see that the grate has lowered to get to the other door. They defeat them with the help of their rescued companions and continue on through what looks like a crew quarters. They rummage through the various containers for anything they can use then move onto the next rooms.

Ellana feels like she is going to be sick. They have stumbled upon what looks like to be the torture chambers. The various instruments only used for men’s suffering covered in fresh and dried blood. She has never seen anything like this. The fact that this kind of warfare is used, even in her own time, is completely revolting. As they are searching the rooms for any survivors, a scream that almost brings Ellana to her knees echoes through the halls. She frantically looks everywhere, “Cullen!”

She kicks open the door at the end of the hall, and her stomach drops and her heart plummets in horror.

There he is, her Cullen, chained up to the grate below him by his wrists and ankles, with men on either side of him, ripping and cutting red crystals that are exploding out of his body like they are harvesting the rocks. He is in a tattered tunic and trousers, ripped and stained beyond any recognition and his hair has grown out exponentially. She can’t help it, she covers her mouth with both hands and she let out a high pitched scream, tears welling in her eyes. The two men look up at the piercing noise, but Ellana easily tears them both apart on her own with a furious yell and swipe of her staff, the ice piecing their skin and tearing off their limbs in a rage she has never felt before.

Once the men have been dealt with, Ellana runs and slides into a kneeling position in front of her Commander. Her companions protest, but she doesn’t listen to them. The fowl stench of death is heavy around him. He is slumped forward, not moving and she can’t even tell if he is still alive. She puts her hands on his shoulders to shake him, careful of the shards growing out of his body, “Cullen? Cullen!”

No response. Ellana tilts her head down to try and look at his face and she whispers, “Cullen?” His eyes snap open and they are a bright, swirling red. She yelps as he lunges forward and grips onto her neck with strangled shout. She grasps his wrists, “Cullen it’s me!” She gasps out, “It’s Ellana!” His grip doesn’t let up, but it doesn’t tighten either. His eyes are wild and unfocused and she can tell that he is not really seeing her. Her friends try to intervene but she waves them off frantically, hoping beyond hope that she can get through to the blond human.

After a few tense moments, his eyes soften, and then widen, “Ellana?” His voice is more distorted then Varric or Blackwall, having clearly been through more torture than them.

Relief floods her and she nods her head and grips his chained wrists harder, “Yes Cullen. It’s me.”

He lets her go immediately and pulls her up by her shoulders with surprising strength and searches her eyes, “Maker how…how is this possible? You,” He visibly swallows, “You were dead.”

She cups his face with her hands, “There is little time to explain, ma vhenan.” He looks at her with confusion and she worries that he doesn’t believe her. She lets out a sigh of relief when he just nods his head and pulls her into a hug. She does not care that he is filthy; she wraps her arms around him anyway, happy to see he is at least still alive. She pulls back and studies his eyes, “I have to get you out of here.”

Dorian speaks up, “This is not a good idea. Look at him. He is not the same-”

Her head swivels back to the other mage and she yells, “I am not leaving him here!” She goes to freeze off his chains and they break one by one, clashing to the ground. Cullen rubs his wrist and she asks, “Can you stand?”

Cullen stands wobbly, but rights himself and looks around. He spots the two dead men that were tearing the red lyrium off his skin and he goes to them and picks up the discarded sword and shield, wielding both and testing their weight. He nods and turns to her, “I may yet have some fight left in me.”

Dorian steps forward and address the Commander, or former Commander now, “We need to get to Alexius. Where is he?”

He regards the mage carefully then says, “If it is Alexius you want, he will be in the Throne room. I can escort you.” She watches him warily, wanting to make sure that he can even walk. When he starts searching the room for the key they need for the door to the courtyard, she decides that he can at least carry himself, though she will stay close to him just in case.

They grab the key for the door from chest in the corner and they make a run for the locked door at the other end of the hall. Once opened, they rush out into a courtyard and Ellana stops dead in her tracks. Her stomach drops and her eyes widen as she looks upon the sky that is a sickly green and moving as if it is alive. The air around them is thick with deterioration and magic that has almost seemed to go sour. She breathes out in absolute disbelief, “By the Dread Wolf. The breach is-”

“Everywhere.” Cullen walks up next to her and she turns to look at him, his brows furrowed and red eyes gazing at the chaos up above, “Without you to close it, the Breach expanded beyond Haven and swallowed the sky. Rifts opened all across Thedas unhindered and the world was torn apart in a matter of months. We never stood a chance.” She turns back to the swirling emerald and lets out a shaky breath. Cullen snaps out of his memories and his head turns to her, motioning ahead of them, “Come, we must move quickly.”

She nods her head and follows him through the courtyard. The group stumbles upon a few rifts which they deal with quickly. She is impressed that Cullen is still able to fight after being tortured the way he ways. For how long, she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t want to know, the thought making her heart drop into her stomach to fester. They go through a few more doors and enter an atrium with one more rift inside. They dispatched the demons and close it as swiftly as the others.

Ellana walks up to the door which leads to the Throne room at the end of the large hall. She furrows her brows at the strange locks keeping the door closed. She turns to her companions, “Any ideas?”

Everyone is silent for a moment until Cullen walks up to her and says absently while examining the curious locks, “It requires red lyrium shards to open.”

She turns her head to him with a creased brow, “How do you know this?”

His eyes turn to hers, “Because I have seen it done.” He pauses for a moment and looks down at the crystals embedded into his arms. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then opens them and says, “You must take them from me.”

Her eyes widen in horror. There is no way she is going to cause him any more pain then he is already in, “No! There must be another way!”

He faces her, “There is not! We have no time!” He yells back, but then softens his tone when she cringes, “I have enough to get the door open.” He hovers his right hand and over a shard in his left shoulder but stops and address the elf, “Look away, Ellana.” She hesitates, not wanting to leave him, but does as he asks, turning away from him and walking a few feet backwards. She does not want to see this.

As Cullen slowly tears the shards out of his forearms and shoulders, Ellana can hear him shouting in pain. She squeezes her eyes shut at the awful tearing sound of his flesh being torn from his body. She feels like she is going to be sick, which is now becoming a common theme with her throughout this whole mess.

After five shards have been extracted, Cullen mumbles in a strained voice, “It’s done.” Ellana hastily walks back to him and takes the shards from his crimson sullied hands. She resists the urge to sob at his state and looks to Dorian pleadingly. The other mage nods his head and heals Cullen as best he can while Ellana inserts the blood stained shards into the door. It glows green and unlocks, opening for them.

They enter the throne room and see Alexius standing with Felix, who looks more darkspawn than human anymore. Alexius begins to babble about the Elder One and how the end is coming but Ellana only hears static. She is fed up with this power hungry Magister, no matter if he is just trying to save his son.

Cullen grabs Felix and slits his throat giving him a merciful death but it only enrages Alexius and he starts to tear open rifts inside the hall. They deal with the demons and rifts quickly, and Ellana lands the killing blow on the Magister with an ice shard through his heart. Dorian grabs the amulet from Alexius’s corpse and asks for an hour to get it ready.

“An hour!?” Cullen yells, “We do not have an hour! You must-” the ground begins to shake and a loud shrieking is heard outside the doors. They all turn their heads to the open door, fog billowing in from outside and the sounds of heavy footfall of marching soldiers and screeches of demons sounding not far away.

Varric and Blackwall look at each other and nod knowingly. The dwarf turns to the group and says, “We will hold them off as long as we can.”

“Varric-”

“Don’t argue, Sparrow. We need you to go back and fix this whole mess.” He gives her a smile that is supposed to be reassuring, but it only creates a hole in her heart. He turns away from her, “Cullen, you hold the line when they break through.” Ellana notices that he said when and not if. Tears well up in her eyes as she watches the two men go and the doors close behind them.

She then turns to Cullen and shakes her head back and forth vigorously, narrowing her eyes at him, “No, I won’t let you do this.”

“You must.” He turns his head away from her and closes his eyes, sighing, “I am already dead.”

“No!” She runs to him and swings her arms around his neck as he wraps his around her waist. She buries her face in his neck with a cry as he holds her close for a moment until he pulls back, framing her face with his sickly hands, his eyes pleading, “You must go back. Stop this. Keep this from happening. I know you can.”

Her tears are running down her face as and she lets out a quiet sob, her bottom lip trembling. He rubs her cheekbones with his thumbs, smearing her tears and the dirt on her face. Her eyes are wild as she looks over his shoulder at the banging on the door, the strain on it from the shaking outside. “Ellana, look at me.” Her eyes snap back to his at his question, the emotion in his now red orbs so strong she can’t breathe, “I should have done this long ago.” He pulls her face towards him and their lips crash together. She closes her eyes as she tastes the blood on his lips, but she presses back with equal fervor. Ellana grips the back of his neck roughly, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, increasing the pressure of the kiss with a desperate moan. He grips her waist harshly and pulls her flush to him and she whimpers at the intensity. After only a few moments, he breaks the kiss, pulling back to look deeply into her eyes and she mourns the loss of his lips, her own feeling bruised and warm.

He tucks a stray hair behind her pointed ear, licks his lips and lifts the corner of his mouth in a small smile, “Go save the world, my love.” She searches his eyes, the ominous red not hindering the warmth she can still see and nods her head solemnly. She knows that when, or if, she gets back to her own time, that he will be alive and unharmed, but seeing him like this now makes her want to stay and help him. It is difficult for her to leave him like this.

Cullen lets her go and raises his shield, inclining his head for her to go by Dorian’s side to help. He turns once her back is to him and he waits for the army to come. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, letting it out slowly and begins to speak, his voice still distorted, “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

The stones of the castle begin to crumble from the ceiling, the stained glass of the windows shattering in serrated splinters and raining down upon them. Ellana puts her hands on her head to shield her from the falling debris. When it stops, she opens her eyes and watches as Cullen continues his prayer, “I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see .The Light is here.”

The large doors have cracked, they are almost through. Varric and Blackwall must have fallen already, and Ellana’s heart breaks for them. Cullen’s voice grows louder over the roar of whatever creature is flying above, “Draw your last breath, my friends! Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky! Rest at the Maker's right hand,” The world around them goes deafly quiet. He lifts his head and his eyes open as he whispers, “And be Forgiven.”

The doors burst open and hordes of Venatori and demons come pouring out. Cullen roars and lunges for the first solider, cutting him down easily. He uses his shield to flip over a wounded Venatori and strikes down the one behind him, blood spattering all over the stones. He turns and blocks a blow from another’s sword, using his own to slice through the man’s legs. Ellana watches him fight with everything he has but there are just too many of them. He is able to push them back until his shield is knocked from his hands by a fireball and his sword is ripped away by a demon.

"Cullen!" She yells, trying to run towards him,but Dorian stops her, "Stop! You move and we all die!" She looks at him in utter panic and then turns her gaze back to Cullen, who is being held with his arms behind his back as a Terror demon approaches him. Their eyes lock for a moment over the shoulder of the creature, for one fleeting moment as if time itself is standing still and her heart stops beating in her chest. The demon raises it's clawed talons and with a shriek, it slices into him, tearing him to pieces. His yells of pain echoing in the great hall, ringing in her ears.

“NO!” Ellana screams at the top of her lungs, frantically trying to run down the stairs to help him until Dorian grabs her by the waist and pulls her back up. She kicks and screams trying to get to the man she loves until his deafening yells stops abruptly. She watches with unabashed horror as Cullen’s body is thrown towards her and lands right in front of her, lifeless, the flesh of his torso completely torn apart with blood seeping from his mouth. Ellana cries and sobs hysterically as she is being dragged away into the swirling green vortex.

**Cullen POV**

The Commander is in his tent when a scout scurries in to let him know that the Herald has returned. He is eager to see her again, not just because he has missed her something terrible, but he is determined to try and fix the strain on their relationship. The others have already gathered in the Chantry, so he makes his way there, nodding to Blackwall and Varric still dismounting from their horses, relieved to see them safe.

He arrives in the war room and looks around to see Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra already in talks. His eyes land on Ellana next to Dorain, looking mostly unharmed, thank the Maker, but she has kept her back to him even though he knows she could hear him enter. He rounds the table and stands at his usual post in front of her, but she still refuses to look up, her right arm holding her left elbow. She is hunched in on herself, looking smaller than he has ever seen her. This worries him greatly, she doesn’t seem to be hurt but, maybe he was wrong.

The Tevinter claps his hands together and says, “Well, now that we are all here, let us begin this monstrosity of a story.” Dorian explains what happened with Alexius and the time magic, but Cullen barely listens to any of it. He studies the elf’s face and with shock, notices the tears falling silently down her cheeks. He wants to say something, but does not want to draw attention to her. She is refusing to speak and Dorian is doing a fine job at distracting them all from her sorry state.

He keeps his gaze on her, watching her for any movement. Finally she slowly looks up and her emerald eyes lock onto his, and he takes a breath at the look of utter hopelessness in them. How can she look so beautiful when she looks so miserable? She lets out sob that stops the conversations in the room.

Her voice is trembling in barely contained cries, “Please, I must…I must go.” Ellana turns on her heels and bolts out the door as if she were on fire.

“Herald!” Cassandra yells after her.

Josephine puts down her board in confusion, “Where is she going?”

Cullen is silent for a moment then speaks up softly, “I think I know.”

“Well?” Cassandra puts her hands on her hips, looking pointedly at him. She waves her hand in the direction that the Herald went, “Go after her.” He hesitates for a moment then quickly rounds the table to exit through the door.

Dorian stops him by putting his hand gently on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look and speaking softly, “Might I suggest, she is, a little sensitive right now. I will not go into detail but she has been through quite enough.” Cullen knows there is more to his statement than he is willing to part with as the mage looks out of the door after Ellana dazedly. He looks back to Cullen, “Be gentle with her.” Cullen regards the mage for a moment, only guessing at what he could be speaking of. He nods his head in understanding and turns to run out the door after the retreating elf.

**Ellana POV**

She is running, the cold wind biting at her flesh, the snow crunching under her feet. She can’t stop. Her heart is torn in pieces and she cannot face him. Not right now. Watching him die, watching his lifeless body being tossed like a doll to her feet is still fresh in her mind. The tears in her eyes sting with the extreme sorrow she feels in her heart.

She ends up where she always does when she is upset, at the dock. She leans down on her knees, catching her breath through the sniffles. She hugs herself tightly and stares at the night sky, the stars winking at her and the sickly green tint swirling through the blackness. Her tears shine brightly against her cheeks like a beacon of despair. Seeing him, alive and unharmed was just too much for her. She had to get out of that room, away from all the pressure and the stares and the demands to explain. She didn’t want to talk about it, so she let Dorian talk. But when she finally looked up and saw Cullen staring at her with that usual concern for her, she couldn’t handle it anymore. She had to get away.

“Ellana!” She jumps and turns to see Cullen rushing towards her and she squeezes her eyes shut at seeing his handsome face contorted in worry. She brings her hands to her face, covering her shame. She lets out a small cry when she feels his strong arms surround her and she falls into his embrace with a sob. “Hey, hey, shh.” He pets her auburn hair, leans his cheek against her head and rubs small circles on her back as she continues to cry into him, gripping onto his cloak tightly. “What’s wrong, my darling? What happened?”

“Oh Cullen,” She sniffs and leans back in his embrace but does not meet his eyes, her own staring at her hands on his chest plate as she recalls the horrifying event. She barely whispers, “I saw you.” His breath catches in his throat at her voice and the glazed look in her eyes, “I saw you, you were, chained up like some animal with…red crystals growing out of your body, tearing your skin to pieces.” She whimpers softly and another tear escapes her at the memory of seeing his flesh torn and shredded, the absolute agony he must have been in.

“You thought I was there to hurt you when I cut you loose and you, attack me at first.” He sighs sadly at that and rubs her sides, trying to comfort her. She keeps going, “When we got to the throne room, they were breaking down the doors, we had little choice, there was no time,” she squeezes her eyes shut, more tears streaming down her face, “You…sacrificed yourself to buy us time to get home, I begged you not to but,” She is almost shouting now, “I saw you being ripped apart by a demon and then your lifeless corpse was thrown at my feet!” She sobs hard and buries her head into his chest, not caring about the cold metal pressing hard against her cheek.

“Oh sweetheart.” He holds her tight, his brows furrowed in his own grief for her. “I’m right here.” She lets out a quieter sob and holds him tighter, wanting to burrow into his warm embrace, “I’m right here, and I am never letting you go.” He pulls back slightly and takes her sorrow ridden face in his hands, his own eyes shining in the moonlight, “I will never leave you.” She sniffs and gives him a small smile, happy to hear those words from him. They are so close together, their faces mere inches apart, and the whole word around them has fallen away.

He pulls her closer to him slowly, giving her time to back away, as if she would. Their lips are a breath apart, their eyes locked together. He leans the rest of the way and tentatively touches his lips to hers. It is the most electrifying sensation she has ever felt, warmth spreading throughout her body and into her core at the simple gesture. The kiss is light, gentle, and wet from her tears. When he pulls back, heat and desire flare into both their eyes and he leans in to take her lips with his more insistently. She lets out the breath that she was holding and meets his kiss with just as much fervor, her knees trembling from the emotional weight of it.

Their lips move softly, but firmly against each other. He tastes divine, his lips tender and gentle against hers. She inhales sharply at the feel of his tongue touching her bottom lip, slowly sliding over it. She instinctively opens her mouth slightly and his wet muscle moves in to swipe his tongue against hers. She moans softly into his mouth and glides her tongue to meet his. His grip on her tightens and he opens his mouth to get better access to hers. Her arms slide around his neck and she is lifted off her feet slightly as he squeezes her, the kiss becoming more insistent and leading to other, more heated territory. The kiss they shared in the distorted future was hurried and rough, only lasting a few seconds, but she considers this their first real kiss.

He lets her down slowly, breaking the kiss, but holding her close and leaning his forehead against hers. They are both breathing deeply, and she swallows and licks her lips, still tingling from his attentions. He watches the movement of her tongue and he leans down for one more chaste kiss as if he can’t help himself, his eyes almost rolling back into his head at the contact, which mirrors exactly how she feels.

He whispers to her, his voice rough and breathless, “We should be getting back.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff, “Alright.” She smiles, the tear streaks on her cheeks having dried. He smiles back at her and leans her head forward to brush his lips against her cool skin. He lets her face go and holds out his gloved hand to her. She ducks her head shyly and puts her small hand in his, her delicate fingers being wrapped around his bigger ones.

“Come on. Let’s get you bed. The rest of the debrief can wait until you’ve had some rest.” She nods her head in acceptance and lets him escort her through the dark forest towards the lights of Haven. They enter through the front gates and he leads her to her cabin, opening the door for her. The fire already in the hearth has warmed her little house, the room looking exactly as she left it. He lets go of her hand as she goes and sits on the bed. He stands in front of her for a moment then kneels, helping her take off her boots. Once they are put to the side he takes her hands and looks up at her, “You just rest, alright?”

She nods and bites her lip for a moment, wanting to ask the question, but not sure if it would be too forward. She laughs at herself in her head at that. She doubts anything she asks after that situation in the forest will be too forward. She looks nervously into his eyes, the normal amber color comforting her, “Will you stay with me?” He lifts an eyebrow and smirks playfully at her bold statement. Her cheeks heat up and her eyes widen at what that request sounded like so she stutters out, “Not, not like that just until I fall asleep.”

He grins warmly at her and chuckles, and all her worries melt away, “Of course, my dear.” She smiles shyly at him and lies down on the bed, pulling the covers over her shoulder and nuzzling into the soft pillow. She feels the bed dip and Cullen rubs her arm soothingly while the other hand rests gentle on her hip. His scent surrounds her and relaxes her further, the tingling of his gloved fingers running up and down her arm calming her. She focuses on him, on his comfort, his safety, and the fact that he is alive and well. She wants so badly to stay awake with him, but she is just so tired.

She takes his gloved hand at her hip and pulls off the garment, baring his strong fingers to her. She intertwines them with hers and pulls his arm to her chest between her breasts. He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh and leans down to kiss her temple. His smooth voice is low and intimate as he says in her ear, “Sleep well, my little Ellana.” She hums in content at his words and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and falls into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time I actually teared up writing. Next chapter will be fluffier. Comments and Kudos are appreciated and keep me motivated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffiness in the first part, then not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major trigger warnings in the second half of this chapter, mind the tags please.
> 
> It has it's purpose, not just my sick mind wanting to torture the characters.
> 
> I apologize again for the delay, I swear this story is all I think about and it kills me when I don't post on time.

**Cullen POV**

Cullen opens the door to the tavern, the smell of ale and stale bread hitting his nose. The only reason he is even in here is because he was invited by Varric to relax a little because he needs to ‘wipe that permanent scowl off his face.’ He does not have a scowl, he is very adamant about that, but that didn’t stop the dwarf from comparing him to his broody elven friend that Cullen knew from Kirkwall who indeed did have a permanent scowl.

He surveys the crowd and sees his recruits to his left, who also see him enter the tavern. They quiet down momentarily until Cullen waves them off, signaling that he is not their Commander at the moment and to continue with their rowdy ways. He looks in the right corner and spots the familiar dark red hair of Ellana, who is swinging in her chair and snickering at something Sera was whispering into her ear and also being coaxed into another drink by Iron Bull, who is currently eyeing her up and down which just will not do.

He strides over to the table with an accusatory look at Bull and the Qunari just looks up casually with a knowing smirk, “Well look who it is.”

Varric raises his glass at the other end of the table, “Hey Curly!”

The bouncy elf’s face lights up when she spots him and she shouts with raising her arms to him, “Cullen!” He can’t help but grin at her. She is absolutely adorable.

Ellana looks around comically and sees that there are no open seats for him. She gets up from her chair a bit wobbly and points to the empty seat, “Here! Here! Sit here!” He shakes his head at her but takes a seat at her incessant pointing. She then climbs into his lap like a cat and he lets out and ‘oof’ when she drops onto him roughly, draping her legs over his sideways. She wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles his throat and he grips her waist tighter with a chuckle. She lays her head on his chest and tilts her head to look at him through her dark lashes and says shyly, “Hi.”

He snorts and smooth’s down her hair that has frizzed a bit in the humid air of the tavern, “Well hello there.” She giggles and literally tries to burrow into his neck. She tickles his throat and he tries to squirm away from her but she keeps nosing his sensitive spot so he looks around helplessly at the amused table of people watching her display while he is trying to get away from her assault. She certainly is affectionate when she is drunk, not that he is complaining too much. He asks her with a chuckle, “Uh, how much have you had to drink, darling?”

Ellana tilts her flushed face up dramatically and hums, answering before everyone else, “Hmm, not that much.”

“She has been talking about you nonstop. Getting rather tiresome to be honest.” Grumbles Dorian from next to Varric.

Ellana turns sharply to the mage with a mock glare, “I didn’t say anything bad!” She turns her head to Cullen with a coy smile that makes his eyebrows rise in suspicion. She leans in to his ear and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, “Just that you were an excellent kisser.” He blushes deeply and takes a long drink from his tankard that has been pushed into his vicinity by Bull. 

“Yeah Curly, why don’t you tell us about how you chased after your love to sweep her off her feet in a romantic kiss that stopped the world.” Varric teases while opening up his journal that he keeps on him for writing down important information. Right, like nosing into Cullen’s personal life is important. He refuses to become the next protagonist in another one of Varric’s smutty romance novel.

Cullen’s brows furrow in mock irritation at the dwarf, “Shut up.”

The table laughs at his exasperation and Ellana whispers with the most endearing pouty lip he has ever seen, “Are you mad at me?”

He smiles at her, “No my dear.” She beams at him and squirms a bit to reach for her drink, which smells an awful lot like the hard liquor that is usually not for tiny elves such as herself. She takes a drink and scrunches her face as it goes down her throat. She clearly doesn’t like it but she just shakes her head and grins afterward.

Cullen clears his throat loudly to be heard over the noise, “So what else has she been talking about?” He lifts his drink to his lips again, the usual swill making his face grimace, but a drink is a drink and a drink is what he needs right now. If only to distract himself from the tiny elf wriggling on his lap and making it difficult for him not to harden in his breeches and embarrass himself.

“Oh just about the ways of love since our Herald here has yet to experience that beauty of it. I’ve been giving her advice on how to handle a Templar.” Bull says while waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Cullen is just about to say something until Ellana squeaks happily, “Oh yes! I have been getting such good advice. Let me show you.”

She surprises him when she lifts onto her knees onto the bench and then swings her leg over his hips to straddle him. He looks at her with wide eyes at such a provocative display and she settles her hips right onto his and his hands automatically go to grip her waist. She smirks at him and gives him the most seductive smile and his breath catches in his throat. She rolls her hips with purpose and she grinds her core directly over his rapidly hardening bulge.

This is not to be done in public and she is clearly too drunk and needs to be in bed, but he cannot seem to care at the moment. She is just so beautiful and sensually moving on top of him that the noise of the tavern dulls and all he can see is this gorgeous creature rolling her sweet center over him.

Ellana leans forward and presses her soft breasts against his chest that is unfortunately still encased in his armor and licks his neck. He shivers and lets out a groan, turning his head to capture her lips in a kiss. She tastes of the hard liquor she has been drinking, but also of something sweet and entirely intoxicating. Her lips are soft and warm and he can’t help but deepen the kiss, seeking entrance to her warm mouth with his tongue and she gladly accepts him with a sigh. His hands rub up her back, one hand going through her silky hair and the other coming around her waist to press her closer to him. She lets out a whimper into his mouth that he greedily swallows with a low groan. Her lithe fingers are gripping the back of his neck tightly, carding through his blond hair that is naturally starting to curl. She rolls her hips more insistently and he can’t help but thrust his hips up against hers involuntarily, wanting desperately for there to be no barriers between them.

A wolf whistle pulls him out of his trance with a jolt and he looks around to all the patrons, some with knowing looks, others with bright blushes and some just laughing at their provocative display. He chastises himself for showing such a spectacle in front of others, but this elf consumes his every thought when they kiss that he just ignores his surroundings and drops his guard completely. When he looks back to her, her eyes are unfocused and glazed over with more than just arousal, and his conscious finally wins out against his insistent length and he holds her as he goes to stand, “Come on honey, let’s get you to bed.”

He puts her on the ground and leans down to put his arm under her knees and lifts her bridal style. He leaves the tavern to the noises of various patrons urging him to do unholy things to her. She is their Herald, for Maker’s sake! They should be showing her more respect than that. He will be sure to reprimand them for it tomorrow. Then again, he should probably not have had a full make out session in front of everyone so he will reprimand himself as well, but later. First, he needs to get the tiny, intoxicated elf safely in bed before she starts something he will really not want to stop.

As he walks through the snow with his prize in his arms, she nuzzles his neck and bites him gently. He falters in his steps and chuckles at her. “What?” She asks innocently, batting her eyelashes at him.

He shakes his head at her, “You’re ridiculous.”

She giggles and slurs her words, “No, you’re ridiculous. Ridiculously handsome.” He snorts at her but doesn’t say anything more as she just begins to giggle to herself at her own thoughts.

He crosses the threshold of her cabin and deposits his squirming cargo on the bed. He turns his back to fill a glass of water from the jug on the table across the room. He hears her rustling around and when he turns back to her, he nearly drops the glass and his eyes widen as large as saucers.

Ellana has pulled her tunic over her head and is now only in her breastband and kneeling on the bed, her finger trailing down the center of her chest. She tilts her head at him and smirks at his frozen state. She trails her finger down to the waistband of her trousers and toys with them for a moment, and then trails back up to cup her still clothed breast with an exaggerated moan.

Cullen is powerless at her display and goes to her, the water forgotten on the table. He takes her face between his hands and kisses her passionately. She grips the back of his neck and moans, her tongue gliding across his lips and sloppily entering his mouth. His hands travel down to her nearly naked torso and glides up and down her sides, her warm, soft skin feeling like silk agsint his palms and fingers. He stops his groping just under her breasts, his hands just barely brushing the underside of them.

Ellana’s hands drift down to the prominent bulge in the front of his pants and she palms him through the material. He groans at the delicious pressure but when she tries to unlace them is when his hands grab her wrists and stops her, “Ellana, no sweetheart.” He has to hold on to his resolve, or else he will do something they will both regret, and he would never want to hurt her.

She pouts and furrows her brows at him, her bottom lip pushing out as she whines, “But Cullen, why not?”

Cullen takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart, “Because you’re drunk. It wouldn’t be right.” He cups her cheek and kisses her lightly on her lips. He pulls back and gazes deeply into her beautiful green eyes, “And when I take you for the first time, I want you to feel everything.”

She huffs in frustration but lays her hands on his chest in submission, “Fine.” He chuckles at her childish display and pulls back the covers for her. She settles into them and lays her head on the pillow. She is almost immediately asleep and he is thankful that he stopped her when he did. She is much more intoxicated than he thought.

Cullen crosses back over to the table and brings the glass of water to her side and leans down to kiss her forehead. He smiles at her and turns to leave. He sighs heavily. Now to deal with the raging arousal she has caused in him, by himself.

**Ellana POV**

It is almost dusk when Ellana enters her cabin. She had been training with some of the mages that had arrived from Redcliff a few days prior. She and Solas were teaching them about the rifts, and she was practicing with the younger mages. Even though she had been First to her clan, it was still a grueling task to teach younger ones how to better control their magic. Not to mention she woke up with a headache because of the amount of alcohol she drank last night. She was able to fight it off with a simple healing spell but the dizziness didn’t go away until she chugged the water that was so conveniently placed on her table next to her bed. She knows it was Cullen though; he always takes care of her.

She is a bit embarrassed about trying to get Cullen into bed with her, and the inappropriate way she was behaving at the tavern. Climbing onto his lap and grinding against him like some adolescent was not the most dignified thing she has done in her life. But with Bull whispering all the dirty things that Templars were capable of, specifically her Templar, she just couldn’t help herself. She will have to apologize to Cullen when she sees him again, which is hopefully soon.

She had just stripped down to her leggings and a soft tunic that she preferred to wear under her armor; It was light and gave her room to breathe, when a bang on her door interrupts her nightly rituals.

“Herald!” She hurries to the door at the loud call and opens it. There stood one of the Templars that had given her and Cullen grief, the dark haired one that Cullen referred to as Todd Ramsey, but he wore a worried and frantic expression and had clearly been running because he was out of breath. “Herald, you must come quickly.”

She furrows her brow at his frantic state, “What’s happened?”

He points behind him, “A rift has opened outside of Haven!” A rift? Here? She jumps into action, grabbing her staff and running out of the house and following the Templar, not even thinking twice about it. If a rift has opened so closely to Haven, then it must be dealt with immediately before demons start pouring through the town.

As they pass s through the front gate she stops. Just her and this Templar against a rift? She should go and get help. She whips around on the man and yells, “I must warn the Commander.”

Ramsey grabs her arm roughly and hurries her into the woods, “There’s no time!” He drags her forcefully and she eyes him suspiciously, but has no time to dwell on it.

It’s darker when they enter through the archway outside of Haven towards the dense woods. She is looking everywhere but she does not see the usual sickly green that comes with a rift opening. Her mark hasn’t flared and she doesn’t feel any tingling of magic. She turns her head to the man and says, “I don’t feel anything. Where is-”

A wave of extreme nauseous and dizziness comes over her. Her breath is sucked out of her lungs and her mana completely drains from her body. She doubles over, dropping her staff and grabs her throat, feeling like she is being choked and wanting to be sick at the same time. Through her haze, a maniacal laugh is heard over the howling wind, “That was just too easy.” She tries to take deep breaths, but she sucks in raggedly and her stomach is churning violently. She lifts her head to look into the Void eyes of Mitchell who has appeared with his half-brother out of the forest. She is reeling at why she is suddenly feeling so sick until a horrible realization floods her mind. They have just used a smite on her.

Ellana drops to her knees as the Templars circle her like a pack of hungry wolves, the last of the sun’s rays falling behind the mountains and casting an eerie glow around their forms. She tries to talk, but she can barely breathe. She has never had a Templar smite her before, and she is over whelmed with the debilitating symptoms. She looks up in time to see the back of Mitchell’s hand fly towards her and she feels the smack against her cheek. She falls backwards into the snow with a cry, clutching her face and trying to stay focused but she can’t even keep her eyes open without feeling nauseous. The Templars come closer to her, the other two going behind her and Mitchell in front of her.

The Templar kneels down and takes her chin in his hand and forces her to face him with a rough yank, a sneer on his face, “The Elder One wants you, but before we deliver you to him, I think we should have a bit of fun with you first.” Her eyes widen when the two behind her grab her arms and force her on to her back, the cold snow seeping in through her thin tunic. She struggles with them but she is so weak. Her mind is racing for what to do. Haven isn’t that far and if she could just work up enough energy to scream loud enough over the wind, someone should hear her.

Mitchell begins to unlace the front of his trousers and pulls out an erection and Ellana freezes in terror. “Hold her legs open.” She starts to fight back futilely, trying to scream, but all she can produce are soft, ragged cries and moans. A knife between her legs stops her squirming and the sound of her leggings being ripped rings in her ears. Tears well in her eyes and she shuts them tight. _No, no no, this can’t be happening._

Mitchell licks his lips when he eyes her naked flesh, “I’ve never had elven pussy before. I hear it’s tighter than a virgin mage in a Circle.”

The dark haired one, Ramsey, cups her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face to him. He leans in to whisper in her ear, “It’ll be alright. Just let it happen.” His tongue makes contact with her ear and runs up the tip, making her shiver with disgust while his hand starts to rub up and down her neck. She gathers all the strength she can and is finally able to let out on shrill scream before he leans down and-

An arrow bursts through his shoulder and blood smears onto her face and she screams again. Mitchell yells and clutches his shoulder only to be tackled into the snow away from her by a large form in a blur of red. Two more arrows hit the men holding her down and she wastes no time scrambling away from them near the soldiers that have come to her rescue. She looks over at the grunts and clanks of armor as Cullen wrestles with the other man, trying to hold him down. He finally gets the Templar pinned and pulls a knife from his belt and roars, his dagger descending through the air headed straight for the man’s neck.

“Commander!” he stops mid stroke and snaps his head to the Seeker that has appeared from the dirt road. She has her sword drawn but her voice is calm as she says to him, “He is not for you to judge.” Ellana would rather he gouge the man’s eyes out and rip out his entrails, but she is no state to be making rational decisions right now.

He sneers and growls at the man pinned down beneath him. He sheathes his dagger and throws one more punch to break the man’s nose with a sickening crack. He lifts onto his feet and points to him and his friends “Throw them in the dungeons! I want them on constant watch!” The soldiers scramble to gather them up and bind their wrists behind their backs to lead them away, the men clutching their wounds and a blood trail following after them.

Cullen runs up to the frightened elf as another solider throws a blanket around her shoulders and kneels down in front of her. She throws herself into his arms with a sob. He catches her and holds her tight to him, his hand tangled in her hair holding the back of her head to press against his shoulder. “Maker, are you alright?” His voice is trembling with fear for her.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, “I’m fine, he didn’t get far.” She can feel him nod against her hair and a loud sigh of relief leaves his lungs. She tries to calm her racing heart with his arms wrapped around her and is warm scent filling her nose. “How did you find me?” 

“One of my men saw you running out of Haven and came to inform me. Knowing who was with you, I followed you.”

She is silent for a moment and then whispers to him, “I’m so sorry Cullen.”

He jerks back and looks into her eyes with his worried brow, his hands cupping her cheeks in his palms, “What?”

Ellana closes her eyes and she shudders, “I’m sorry, this is my fault. If I would have just gone to you first this wouldn’t have happened.” Ellana has always been naive and too trusting. She should have known better than to believe that a rift could have opened up near here. And when Ramsey didn’t let her go get help…she feels so stupid.

Cullen shakes his head back and forth quickly, his features turning from concern to anger, “You perish that thought this instant. This is not your fault. Those men will be dealt with, but never, ever believe that you are to blame for this.” She looks at him, hears the conviction in his voice, and she sniffs while nodding her head. He nods once at her, “Alright.” He wraps her in his arms and leads her back to Haven, Cassandra following behind them.

Cullen leads her towards her cabin but she shakes her head, “I want to address everyone. Bring me to the Chantry.”

He eyes her warily, “Are you sure?” She nods and doesn’t say anything, turning their direction to the Chantry. When they enter they can hear the shouts of the three Templars being stripped and thrown in cells in the dungeons. Ellana does not even glance that way. They enter the back room, her blanket now replaced with Cullen’s cloak wrapped around her.

Leliana is already there and she asks, “Herald! Are you alright?” She actually has a look of concern, which Ellana has never seen the woman with more than angry on her face.

She brushes her off, “I’m fine. A little shaken, but I’ll be okay.”

Cassandra speaks first with hesitation, “Why did you want to talk to us?”

Ellana squares her shoulders and she is surprised at herself with how calm she is being. She doesn’t want to think about or deal with what has happened to her this night, so she is going to throw herself in her work instead. She speaks with an authority she has learned while dealing with the many issues of the Inquisition, “I don’t want to wait any longer. We have the supplies we need, the mages are trained as well as they can be. We are wasting time.” She looks at the faces of her advisors who have become her friends in these past few months. Her eyes settle on Cullen who is still looking at her with concern. She buries that deep down and refuses to even think of it. She takes a deep breath and says, “Tomorrow, we close the Breach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the comments and kudos! I do appreciate them and love to hear feedback.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I feel like a big jerk. I haven't updated in so long. Finally got the motivation again after fighting a long episode of depression. I tell ya, that shit kicks hard when it wants to. But I'm back, and hopefully that's over with. Please enjoy!

**Cullen POV**

_I should never have let her go._

Cullen stands on the outskirts of the makeshift camp that the people of Haven have set up alongside the mountain. He has not left this spot for at least an hour, the wind biting his cheeks and his eyes scanning the valley for any signs of her. It is difficult to filter through the wild blizzard that is battering the mountain side and the darkness of night makes it that much more difficult, but he will not return to the settlement until she is found.

He knows she is alive. He knows it in his heart, can feel it with every fiber of his being, and he calls out to her in his mind. He can swear that he hears her return his plea, like a whisper on the wind, or a gentle caress on his skin. It is the same feeling that he gets whenever they touch, as if everything is right in the world when they are together, only now it has diminished, barely a flicker of light in the darkness he feels pulling him straight into the Void. But it is still there and he holds on to the hope that she is out there somewhere coming back to him, following the same whispers that he hears.

He closes his eyes, breathing in slowly through his nose as he remembers his last moments with her…

_He does not hide the panic in his voice as he asks her with trepidation, “But what about you? How will you escape?”_

_Ellana looks him in the eyes, her brows furrowed in sadness, her own eyes shining. She clenches them shut with a sniff and turns away from him. She whispers just loud enough for him to hear, “You need to get the people out of here, Cullen…”She opens her eyes and turns her head back to him, her chin up and her features turned into a fierceness and authoritative grace, but no less beautiful._

_Cullen stubbornly shakes his head in the negative, stepping closer to her, “Ellana…”_

_Dorian intervenes softly, “She’s right. This is the only chance they have, and you know it.”_

_Cullen looks to the other mage sharply, seeing the man with a sincerely apologetic expression gracing his features, but doesn’t argue, the tactician in him knowing that this is the only way, as much as it pains his heart to admit it. He sighs dejectedly and nods his head in acceptance. Ellana gives him one of her signature smiles that makes his heart flutter, “Don’t worry. I always have a plan.” Her bravery and courage truly knows no bounds. She has grown up much with her time being the Herald and he couldn’t be more proud of her._

_He snorts at her attempt to ease his worries and wraps her in his arms, burying his nose in her hair for a brief moment, her sweet scent being masked by the smoke and tang of her magic. He pulls back and holds her at arm’s length, his eyes dancing back and forth between hers, memorizing the beautiful emeralds. He grips her tighter for a moment as he demands sternly, “Come back to me.”_

_She nods her head, squeezing him in return as she responds softly, “I will always find you…”_

Cullen sucks in air sharply in surprise but relaxes instantly as Solas walks up next to him without saying a word, pulling the commander from his memories. The older elf leans heavily on his staff in exhaustion, mirroring Cullen’s own fatigue. He glances for a moment at the elf before resuming his frantic searching, his eyes still having difficulties sifting through the flurries and blackness. After a moment of silence between them, Cullen speaks, trying to put as much conviction into his voice as he can, “I know she is alive. I can feel her.” Even to him, it sounds like he is trying to convince himself more than anyone else, but there is something, a flicker, a spark, a light that he cannot physically see, but can feel in his heart, in his very soul.

Solas does not look to him, but Cullen can hear him sigh, “I will not deter you in that. Although, the possibility of her surviving the avalanche, and then venturing successfully through this blizzard to us without succumbing to hypothermia, is unlikely.” 

Cullen tightens his fists and closes his eyes, his jaw clenching , “If you have come to me to spout your discouraging words, then please leave me in peace.” He says slowly through gritted teeth. He will not tolerate this apostate’s usual arrogant nature. Or anyone who dares even think the Herald could not survive this. He will not hear it.

“On the contrary. I believe that she can.” Cullen turns to face the elf as he in turn faces him. He regards him for a moment then nods his head in thanks for at least believing in her as strongly as he does. The silence drags on between them, the howling of the wind and the murmuring of the Haven refugees behind them the only sounds in the mountains.

Solas breaks the silence first, “I was curious. You say that you can feel her. In what way?” The elf tilts his head at him.

Cullen flushes a bit, even in the cold as he clears his throat, “Well I, uh, we can…feel each other. When we are not touching. It is strange now that I think of it. It is as if I can feel her skin upon mine when she is near, and when she is not, like now, I can hear her, calling to me. I know that it is her.” It sounds ridiculous, now that he is saying it out loud, but it does not make it any less true.

Solas nods his head, his face revealing nothing, “Fascinating. Have you ever felt this way before?”

Cullen thinks for a moment, then replies, “Yes, but not in the waking world. I was having dreams before she came to Haven.”

“What sort of dreams?”

“Nightmares, usually. It was always the same thing until about a week before the Conclave. They…shifted.”

“How?”

If Cullen didn’t know the elf, he would swear that his demeanor has changed from casual conversation to genuine interest and almost, intense concentration. Not wanting to give up too much information, Cullen responds vaguely, “Let’s just say that instead of succumbing to my fears, I was rescued, in a sense.”

Solas’s brows furrow, “Rescued?” Cullen can almost see the wheels turning in the apostates head. _Solas is awfully interested in this…_

The commander nods his head once, “Yes. By a woman, an elf actually. I have never seen her before but she saves me every time.” His gaze drifts off in remembrance of the mystery woman who comes and saves him from dreams that have haunted him for ten years. He continues absentmindedly, “Her eyes glow bright green and she…” Cullen trails off as realization hits him hard in the chest as if an ogre has slammed into his ribs. His brows furrow, his eyes darting back and forth, and then his eyes widen.

Green eyes. Bright green eyes. He has seen them before, has lost himself in them, has noticed the sparkle of lights as he kisses the owner of them.

Ellana…

_Impossible._

Ellana is the woman in his dreams!

“There!”

He is yanked from his startling realization as Solas points out into the wilderness. Cullen looks up seeing a small figure in the snow staggering down the mountain. He doesn’t think about his next action as he yells for Cassandra that the Herald has made it out. He rushes forward through the deep snow, knowing in his heart that is it her. _Thank the Maker…_

He has spoken too soon when he comes right up to her. She is kneeling in the snow, exhausted and beaten. He can see the ice on her lashes, her skin is turning blue and she has seemed to have stopped shivering. That can’t be good. Her sunken eyes look up to him, snow covering her beautiful face. “Cullen”, she croaks out.

“I’m here, darling. I’m right here.” He bends down in the dense snow, kneeling before her and quickly scooping her up, careful not to jostle her, his trousers now wet from the snow. _Andraste preserve me, she is freezing._

He carries her bridal style, clutching her to his chest possessively, her legs dangling over his arms. She tries to snuggle as close to him as she can, feeding off his warmth. He tenses slightly when she buries her cold nose in his neck and he holds her tighter to him as he takes her back toward the camp, Solas and Cassandra by his side.

He rushes to the large tent at the head of the camp swiftly, Cassandra barking orders to the hand maidens to grab all the blankets they can spare. He lays her down gently on the cot next to the fire that Solar conjures in the nearby braziers. He feels helpless, hos mind in a panic as his heat is being tugged out of his chest, looking over her form that seems even smaller and more fragile now. She curls into herself and loses consciousness.

Solas waves a hand over her, his palm pulsing white with healing magic, “We must get her out of her wet clothes.” Cullen hesitates briefly then moves to her and begins to pull her vests and trousers off. He leaves her in her small clothes, wanting to preserve her modesty, but Solas shakes his head, “All of them.” The commander relents and pulls those off as well, being as professional as he can about finally seeing her naked skin. If this were under different circumstances, he would be excited to finally see her, but the blue tint to her flesh pulls him away from that line of thinking. He does not look directly at her most private areas, only feeling around them to take off the rest of her clothes, being as respectful as he can about it. Once removed, he pulls the blanket that was on the cot over her, tucking it around her tightly.

Cassandra stalks into the tent, a handful of more blankets in her arms. She throws them on the Herald frantically, also slipping them around her while saying, “She needs more to keep warm.”

Solas speaks up, “The Inquisitor needs body heat, and it is the fastest and safest way for her body to fight the hypothermia that is already settling in.”

Both Cassandra and Solas look at the commander. Cassandra speaks softly, “Cullen? You know what you must do.”

Cullen flushes and turns red. He is not against it per say, but he does not like the idea of being naked with her while she is in such a vulnerable state. It seems too much like taking advantage of her. He protests weakly, “B-But I…”

The Seeker interrupts him, her voice firm, “You must, or she could die in the night. I doubt she would want any of us to do it. You two have been close since she arrived in Haven, I know she trusts you, as we all do. You will not do anything inappropriate.” The look the Seeker gives him is a heartfelt one. She has clearly grown attached to the little elf as much as he has. He doesn’t know if it is out of devotion or a real friendship that they have formed. Either way, it’s comforting to know that Ellana has friends she can trust.

Cullen looks down at Ellana, her features scrunched in pain and he nods his head in resignation, “Alright.”

Cassandra lays her hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, her face still twisted in concern, “We will give you some privacy. Please, let us know if she needs anything else, or her condition changes.” He nods his head at her and she and the others leave the tent and close the flap behind them.

Cullen strips out of his armor, throwing them haphazardly aside. He is thankful to be out of his own wet clothes from keeling in the snow. He strips down completely, not concerned in the least about his and her nudity. This is strictly clinical. He climbs in behind her, his skin tingling at the coldness of hers. He wraps his arms around her and lays his head in her hair, squeezing her to him, feeling more complete now then he has in years with just this woman in his arms even though she isn’t awake. The contact between them is a balm for his aching heart, and he projects all his warmth to her.

The small elf unconsciously burrows back into him, reaching out to hold his arm around her waist closer to her. His hand brushes on the underside of her breast and his breath catches. He scolds himself and attempts to pull her arm down to where it is more on her waist, and thankfully she relents.

Cullen holds her awkwardly at first, listening to her breathing even out to a normal pace. His eyes close, holding her tight, and he drifts off to sleep with his woman in his arms, wondering if he will see her again in his dreams.

**Ellana POV**

Ellana stirs awake; her eyes slowly opening, squinting from the light of the fire nearby. The first thing she notices is that she is warm, which is odd, because she was just about to freeze to death wandering aimlessly in the snow, following the call of a voice she knows as safety and comfort. The next thing she notices is the solid wall against her back that is radiating heat and the arm that is thrown over her bare waist. She takes a deep breath and relaxes as she recognizes the scent of morning rain and soft sand that belongs to none other than Cullen. She hums and closes her eyes, too weak to move just yet, not caring that she is naked in a bed with him. Which is surprising, considering her normal awkwardness and shyness around him.

Her memories slowly come back to her. The Red Templar army, the dragon, the monster that calls himself Coryphaeus. The Mark is permanently bound to her, which is a good thing in her mind. She did not ask for this, she never wanted this, but she would not give this power up to a creature that will use it to destroy what the humans call the Golden City where their Maker presides. The only good thing that has come out of this disaster is that at least now they have a name for their enemy, and the fact that so many people were able to make it out of Haven before the avalanche destroyed the city, thanks to Cullen.

When Ellana staggered out of that cave into the wilderness, she had stopped for a moment, with no idea on what to do next. She had no weapons, no provisions, only her magic to defend her, which was dwindling quickly because she was using it to keep herself as warm as she could. Until she heard it. A voice. Not heard with her ears, but inside her heart. And not really talking, but just a murmur, a vague whisper of her name and an insistent tug of her soul. And she followed it. As if whoever that voice belonged to was guiding her, and she knew that she could trust it.

But the closer she got to it, the weaker she became. The wind and snow stung her cheeks, she could barely see and the snow so deep, it came up to her knees, but she pressed on, desperate to find a way through. Once the fog had cleared, she came upon an abandoned fire, and felt relief that maybe she was close. But she was so tired, her mana having already been completely drained for a while. She just couldn’t go on any longer. She had dropped in the snow that didn’t even feel cold anymore. Almost as if it was a soft bed that she could rest in, but deep down, she knew she was going to die.

Apparently, and thankfully, she didn’t. Ellana vaguely remembers being picked up and carried, almost like it was a hallucination. When she had looked up at her savior while in his arms, he reminded her of the strange figure that was waiting for her at the end of the aisle in her dreams. She was saved by the man that has become so close to her in a short amount of time and said man was currently sleeping naked next to her.

She slowly turns her head, her neck still stiff and sore from the biting cold. Her eyes land on the soft blonde curls she has come to adore and as her eyes travel lower, his eyes are closed and dancing behind his eyelids in a deep sleep. She smiles and turns in his arms, albeit with difficulty, and he holds her to his body like a vice. She tries not to wake him and snuggles under his chin, too tired to want to alert him or others that she is awake. She deserves a rest after what she has been through.

After a moment, she can’t help herself as she leans back a bit to look up into his handsome face, watching him with fondness. As if knowing that she is awake and her eyes are on him, his eyes slowly flutter open then widen slightly when he sees her looking at him. He sits up on his elbow slightly over her, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek, a half smile on his face as he breathes in relief, “You’re awake.”

She lifts her hand to his on her face, leaning into his touch and smiles. She whispers, “Yeah.”

His thumb rubs her cheek bone, his voice remaining soft, “How are you feeling?”

She huffs lightly, “I’m alright. Tired, but not freezing my toes off anymore so I think that’s a good sign.” She smiles sheepishly.

He feels said toes against his own feet wiggle a bit and his smile widens as he lightly laughs, “That’s good.” They stay quiet for a moment, studying each other’s eyes until Cullen asks regretfully with concern in his features, “Do you remember anything?”

Ellana sighs, looking down at his chest, her hand sliding over the curly hair over his pectorals, “Yes, it was, so horrible. I couldn’t…”

“Shh. It’s alright.” He pulls her close to his chest so that her head is under his chin, “You don’t have to talk about it right now. Just rest.” She takes a shaky breath and he feels her nod her head, her breath ghosting over his skin. He rubs his nose in her hair, his arm draped over her waist tightening as he whispers to her, “I was so worried about you.”

She hums, nuzzling against his neck. “Hmm.” He begins to rub her back, feeling her soft skin under is fingertips, “Well I’m here, all because of you. You saved my life. I could hear you calling to me.”

He stills his hand and asks, "You could hear it too?

She nods her head against him, “Yes. I knew it was you. I don’t know how, but I knew.”

Cullen pulls back slightly and lays his warm palm on her cheek again, tilting her head so she looks up at him, her emeralds sparkling in the fire light, “I believe we have much to discuss, Ellana.”

She huffs out a breath, knowing exactly what he is referring to, “I think so, too.”

Cullen shakes his head, “but later.” She nods her head again, in agreement. Obviously there is a force pulling them together, one that is powerful and grows stronger every day, but there will be time for that when it is more appropriate, not when she was pretty much on her death bed not a few hours ago. Cullen looks up at a rustling outside the tent, then looks back down to her, “You need to rest, and I must report to the others that you are awake.” He shifts to get up but she stops him, grabbing onto his shoulder.

“Wait.” She says shyly. She nibbles her bottom lip nervously, “Stay with me?”

He regards her for a moment, and then his lips turn up into a soft, warm smile. He settles back down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holds her close to his chest. She hums happily and snuggles into him, closing her eyes, breathing in his comforting scent that she has gotten so used to these past few months.

Ellana shifts slightly and something hard grazes her thigh. She jumps, an, “Oh” leaving her mouth. He tenses and looks at her with apology and apprehension, tilting his hips away. He stammers out, “I-I’m sorry.”

The elf giggles slightly, “No, no, it just surprised me.” She lowers her eyes and lifts the corner of her mouth. In a daring move that she herself is surprised she even attempts, Ellana trails her hand down his chest through the golden hair, feeling his hard abs and muscles contract at her drifting fingers.

He shivers, “What,” he clears his throat, “What are you doing?” She looks at him under her long lashes and smiles sweetly at him, her delicate fingers traveling down towards his groin. Cullen moans softly and grips her wandering wrist lightly, “Ellana, I can’t have your first intimate moment be like this.”

She ties to tug on his hold, “It’s okay, I want this. Please, Cullen.”

He furrows his brows in concern, though a heat has clouded his amber eyes, “You are still recovering, I would be taking advantage. And what about what happened with-”

She silences him, “I don’t want to think about that. And you won’t be taking advantage. Not if I start first.” He still looks apprehensive so she steps up her game, “I just survived an avalanche, an army of Red Templars, and a dragon bound to a power hungry manic. I need to feel us both alive right now.”

He gazes into her eyes for a moment too long and she starts to think he will resist, until his eye lids lower and he lets go of her wrist. He leans his face closer to her, and softly presses his lips to hers. She whimpers and presses harder, their lips moving fluidly together. Her hand not on his stomach slides up to his neck as he moves his own into her hair, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. Ellana slides her leg up and over his hip, opening herself to him as she takes the kiss to a more aggressive play of tongues. Her hand on his lower abdomen runs up over his hip, trying to bring him closer and Cullen switches hands and grips the back of her hair with his other hand and slides the now free one down her waist to grip her thigh. Before she can scoot closer to feel him pressed where she really wants him, he pulls back and Ellana whines, giving him a pleading look. He looks into her eyes and murmurs, “I will not take you this way.”

She whispers against his lips desperately, “I’m not asking you too. All I want is just to feel you against me.”

Cullen slides his hand up her thigh to grip her rear, squeezing lightly which makes Ellana bite her lip. He leans down to capture her mouth in a hungry kiss, which she returns eagerly. He runs his hand over her waist, and then travels back down to graze her stomach and moves lower.

When he reaches the top of her mound, Ellana’s brain fuzzes over and her eyes roll back in her head when he says huskily, “I will not take you, but I can still bring you pleasure.”

Before she has time to prepare, Cullen cups her center, his middle finger rubbing gently over her pulsing clit. She gasps into his mouth, the sensation of his finger so gentle yet firm against her most sensitive point. He is breathing just as heavily as her, their mouths pressed against each other, but not moving, just the pressure of their lips and the connection they share grounding her.

He starts to rub slightly harder, up and down her core, feeling how wet she is for him and grinding the heel of his palm on her little nub. When his middle finger catches at her opening, she squeezes her eyes shut, rocking onto his hand, pleading for more, but more of what, she doesn’t know. He circles her entrance, spreading her slick and slowly, ever so gently, begins to push inside her.

Ellana grips onto the back of his neck, arching her hips up into his hand and whimpers loudly, never feeling anything like this before. Living with her clan so close, she never had a chance to explore herself. A touch to her clit here and there was about all she has done, but this? This is a new experience of blinding pleasure that she doesn’t know how to handle, so she just grips him harder and tries to let instinct take over.

Cullen’s brows are furrowed in concentration, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, but hopefully only finding desperation. As he moves in to the first knuckle, licking his bottom lip, he groans, “Maker, Ellana. You are so tight.” Concern laces his voice as he whispers, his breath fanning her flushed cheeks, “You alright?” She just nodes her head frantically, not able to speak, the feeling of being so intimate with someone rendering her speechless, especially with the man she has such a deep and clear connection to.

Ellana is breathing heavily as she holds onto him for dear life as he glides in and out, in and out until he finally has his entire middle finger inside her. The stretch of just his one finger is already almost too much, and when she feels the obvious and large erection poking against her stomach, she has a momentary burst of fear for when they actually are able to come together, but she shoves that aside for now.

He holds his digit inside her, letting her get used to the feeling of being stretched and full, while he places kisses on her cheeks and nose, trying to sooth her. In only a few moments, she feels her walls twitch around the intrusion, the apparent signal for him to continue. He pulls his hand back, grazing over a sensitive spot inside her that she didn’t even know she had, making her see stars and her hips buck against him involuntarily as she moans. He starts a lazy pump with his finger, crooking it so it rubs on that sweet spot over and over as Ellana continues to let out moans, whimpers and gasps. He trails his lips down her neck, nipping at her skin and licking the bites softly. She pushes her breasts up against his chest, her hardened nipples rubbing against his coarse hair sending jolts of blinding desire down to her clit.

The tiny elf begins to feel a tightening in her belly and she tries to look him in the eyes, her lids heavy, “Cullen, please. I...” She doesn’t know what she is pleading for, but he seems to understand without her vocalizing it.

Cullen brings his head up and kisses her roughly while tangling his free hand deeper in her auburn hair, pumping his finger faster, his thumb gathering the liquid being pushed out around his finger so that he can rub her clit in soft circles, switching to massaging it up and down roughly. She is blinded by the sparks coming out of her clit, almost like an electric shock as he stares intently at her while forcefully rubbing on her slick, sensitive pearl. The sensations make her hot center clench around his thick finger and he moans in appreciation.

Her whines become higher, breath shorter and stressed and she is reaching for the end of this pleasure that she is sure will kill her. Cullen groans into her ear, just as turned on as she is, “Let go, darling. I’ve got you.” She cries louder, hips pumping against his hand just as fast as his finger inside her, “That’s it, love.” He urges her roughly, “Come on.”

The coil snaps, the crescendo reaches its climax, time stops and she can’t breathe, and Ellana explodes.

Her walls contract around his finger violently, her clit throbbing and tingling, sending warmth and pleasure all throughout her body unlike anything she has ever felt before. Her entire body spasms in a blinding wave of pleasure so intense she can’t even remember her own name. She squeezes her eyes shut so tight, her mouth in an O as she screams out his name, “Oh, Cullen! Oh, Cullen! Oh!” He silences her cries with his mouth, his own groans rumbling deep within his chest. She jolts when she feels a splashing onto her lower belly, a warm liquid being drizzled on her already heated skin.

Ellana is dizzy, her head feeling lighter than ever before, and she takes a minute to enjoy the aftershocks as he continues to pump his finger in and out of her sensitive heat. Once she is down from her incredible high, she finally opens her eyes and takes in a shaky breath. Cullen is slack jawed as well, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat and his eyes heavy. He stops his ministrations before the stimulation becomes too much for her and gently removes his finger, Ellana whining softly at the empty feeling. He slowly brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks in digit inside, moaning softly at her taste. _Now that is wet dream material._

She lets go of the death grip on his hair and licks her lips lazily, blinking slowly at him with a goofy smile. Her fuzzy brain can only come up with one thing to say, “Wow…” The first orgasm of her life and she can’t believe how she lived without it. Hopefully now, with him, she will never have to again. _I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to that._

He smiles warmly at her, “Yeah. I agree.” She laughs at his dreamy expression until she feels a chill on her belly.

She finally looks down to see what that warm sensation was and sees a white, think fluid on her skin. She looks back up at him, raising her eyebrows at him and he smiles sheepishly, “Sorry. That’s never happened before.” He cups her cheek and kisses her lips lightly, “You were just so beautiful.” She blushes prettily and he laughs tenderly. How is she feeling shy right now after what they just did? It’s ridiculous.

He pulls back a moment to grab a cloth from on the floor and wipes her down as she lays back, completely sated and happy. When he finishes cleaning her up, he comes back and holds her tight against him, her back to his chest. He rubs her waist up and down, sending shivers pleasantly through her and she snuggles back into him, trying to get as close as she can. He kisses the top of her head and murmurs into her hair, “You should get some more rest.”

Ellana sighs dreamily, already half a sleep, “For only a little bit.” He tightens his arm around her and she drifts off to strong sound of his heartbeat synching with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I love to get feedback and it keeps me motivated! <3 If I made any spelling mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them. I only have myself to proof read :P


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